


Whispers in the Wind

by CeNedraRiva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Elemental Magic, F/M, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Magical Realism, Newly Human Castiel, Pilot Dean Winchester, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/CeNedraRiva
Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a zephyr named Castiel, a spirit of air who danced across the sky. One day he encountered a human named Dean, a brash young pilot. Castiel grew enchanted with Dean’s passion for flying, and sought to befriend Dean by becoming human. Alas, Castiel could find no such magic, and resigned himself to live forever unseen, until one day a fierce storm cast Dean from the sky. Desperate to save Dean, Castiel approached the mysterious Story Mage, who agreed to help. For a price...





	1. Cirrus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018](http://deancaspinefest.tumblr.com/)! With [absolutey gorgeous art](http://purzelndesbaeumchen.tumblr.com/post/171839552528/whispers-in-the-wind-once-upon-a-time-there), made by [purzelndesbaeumchen!](http://purzelndesbaeumchen.tumblr.com/), With thanks to my two betas [queenfriday17](http://queenfriday17.tumblr.com/) and [firefly124](http://firefly124.tumblr.com/) who helped me sculpt this mass of ideas into a cohesive story!

_ “We all know the Grand Story, of course. In the beginning, there was the Empty. All that nothingness, pretty difficult to even imagine. And then there was the Light, our Lord, the creator of this world. He created Earth, Air, Water, and Fire, the beings we would one day know as Gabriel, Raphael, Lucifer and Michael, and together they shaped our world. But from the shadows, the Darkness was watching. She grew jealous of the talent of the Light, and set about corrupting everything she could, leaving chaos in her wake. The battle raged for millennia longer than any of you could comprehend, but eventually, Light and Dark agreed on a truce. They divided up the world between them.” _

The Beginning of All Things

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

 

“I still don’t get how you can fly that thing, yet you’re terrified of flying in planes.”

“Planes crash, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam. And what makes you think the paperwing can’t crash?”

Dean took a step back, turning his head to examine the last little tear in Impala’s outer shell. The damage wasn’t too bad, but it was enough to be a danger if he was caught in a gale. With a click of his fingers, he summoned a small flame, and used the heat along with a whistled rune to coax the damaged panel loose. He placed it aside, replacing it with a new piece of gum-soaked paper.

“She won’t crash because I made her. And ‘cause she likes me.” Dean wasn’t looking in Sam’s direction, but he could nearly feel Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Planes have been safe to fly in since we were kids, Dean. People even go walking on the wings.”

“People are crazy, Sammy, that doesn’t make flying natural.”

“You fly, Dean.”

“Yeah, with magic, as nature intended. Why do we need to invent new technology to do something we can already do?”

“Because not everyone can use air magic. Come on, Dean, you know this.”

“Well, if they can’t use air magic, why are they even trying to fly? That’s like going sailing without knowing how to swim.”

“Loads of people who can’t swim go sailing.”

“And if their boat sinks, they’re screwed.”

“I don’t think knowing how to swim would make that much of a difference if you’re in the open ocean. And knowing how to use air magic would make no difference if Impala was malfunctioning mid-flight. You’d still fall.”

“I’d have more of a chance than they would. Planes don’t even use magic, Sam! How could anyone trust one of those hunks of nylon and machinery to stay in the air?”

“Impala’s made of wood and paper.”

“And magic! She’s far more safe.”

“Dean, there’s literally decades of scientific research into how flight works, and how planes work. The propellers create thrust, which forces air over the aerofoils-”

“Yeah, I remember your last rant about it.”

Sam huffed, and turned back to his studies.

It took a few more hours of spellwork before Dean finished up for the day. He grinned in satisfaction, smoothing one hand over the glider’s flank.

To the untrained eye, Impala was a flimsy looking thing, made up of a lightweight wooden frame covered in layers of laminated paper. Vaguely bird-shaped, she had a wingspan several times Dean’s height, and was large enough to carry two men. She was painted a dark, glossy black with silver trimming, and large yellow eyes that almost seemed alight with mischief. Invisible runemarks coated her on nearly every surface, strut and rib, each little spell for protection or lift or thrust combined to make Impala a truly wondrous magical construct.

She was reliable, and much more trustworthy than any random plane.

Sam was still writing, but he glanced up when Dean stood to stretch. He rolled his shoulders, readjusting his books.

“Nice work,” Sam said. Dean grinned.

“Come on, I’m starving.”

They went inside.

“So, when is Eileen coming back?”

“She should be back by dinner-time. It’s only a simple story spell, wouldn’t take more than a few hours to weave once she has the right specifications.”

“Awesome. She’ll be back in time for burgers,” Dean grinned.

“It’s your last night, you don’t need to make dinner.”

“Exactly, it’s my last night. I’m gonna be living off bread and jerky, with the occasional cheap motel meal, for the next few weeks. I’m gonna use that kitchen properly for once, while I still can.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but followed as Dean led to the kitchen.

Dean retrieved all the ingredients for the hamburgers and began to assemble them into burgers. Sam leaned against the doorframe, watching.

“You hovering for any reason, or do you just want to get wrist-deep in raw beef too?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “No thanks. I do have something to tell you though.”

“So serious, Sammy. What is it?”

“I was thinking of…” Sam paused, obviously nervous. “I want to ask Eileen to marry me.”

Dean blinked, glancing up towards Sam, before he broke out into a grin.

“Dude, congrats! That’s awesome!” Dean ran up to hug Sam, who cringed away at about the same moment that Dean remembered his hands were covered in raw meat. Dean backed up, giving a smile.

Sam gave a little pleased smile in return.

“So, when are you going to ask her?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I want to get her an engagement gift first.”

“Well, the moment you do, send me a telegram. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come back for the celebration!”

Dean went back to making the burgers. He was happy for Sam, really, he was. But he still felt a little wistful.

Sam and Eileen had been happily living together for nearly three years now. They were drawn together by their shared love of literature studies and the applications of literature in white magic.

It had been a stormy start for the couple. They met during a routine exorcism. A banshee with a grudge had been haunting a small village in the wilds, and they had both been called in to help by different people. Not knowing that the other was a hunter as well, they ended up fighting. Eileen, being brilliant at wards and symbols, got the upper hand quite quickly, while Sam relied more on telekinetics and evocation.

They quickly cleared things up, and working together they took down the banshee before anyone else was harmed.

Sam and Eileen met up several more times, and kept in touch with letters when they could, until Eileen chose to move to Lebanon to pursue her studies at the Men of Letters supernatural library. It wasn’t long after that that they began dating, and eventually Eileen moved into the Winchester family house.

It was good for Sam. Ever since Jess’s death, Sam had shied away from any deep relationships. He’d been angry, vengeful for many years before he could finally let go of his anger and move on with his life. But even so, he’d remained unhappy to a degree. Sure, there was his studies, and the occasional call-out to banish a ghost or weave someone a Story, but he’d also been lonely. Lebanon was a touch more isolated than New Alexandria, and he didn’t know nearly as many people around. Dean never stayed too long, because he couldn’t stay away from the air. He loved to fly. But he knew Sam was lonely.

Eileen had brought Sam back out of his isolation. They’d studied together, socialised together, travelled together. Sam just seemed so much happier.

Dean was happy for him. But he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous too. It was a ridiculous feeling, he knew, but that didn’t stop it. There was no-one in Dean’s life who held the same significance as Eileen did for Sam. He’d imagined something with Lisa, back in the day, but it never went anywhere. And flying everywhere for work didn’t exactly lend itself to meeting new people – at least not in the dating sense.

It was stupid. Dean wasn’t unhappy or anything, far from it. He loved where his life was, travelling the world, helping people.

Dean decided to ignore his irrational jealousy, and focus on being happy for Sam instead. It wasn’t that hard, watching Eileen gently tease Sam over dinner. They were a good pair.

* * *

 

Around midday the next day, Dean was preparing to fly. 

“I’ll probably be back in about three weeks,” Dean said, as he tied down the last of his packages. Impala’s  familiar magic was humming under his fingertips, eager to take to the air. “I’ll be going through Sioux Falls, then Low Wiccombe, and then spending a few days around Waverley, but you know how it is.”

Sam nodded.

“You’ll call if there’s any change in plans?”

“Of course!” Dean grinned, as he finished up. Turning to Sam, he drew the man into a hug. “Call me the moment she says yes. Use the signal stones if you need to.”

When he drew back, Sam was blushing a small amount. Dean just grinned, clapping him on the shoulder before turning to Eileen.

“Take care of this dork,” Dean signed.

“Of course I will,” Eileen grinned, and they hugged too.

“Until next time,” Dean waved, before climbing into the glider. He adjusted his goggles, traced Impala’s magic to life, and began to whistle up the winds. The air shifted quickly, swirling around Impala until she grew lighter and lighter on the ground.

Dean glanced to Sam and Eileen to give them one final wave, before he called Impala into the air. She rose quickly, eager to fly again, and Dean felt his spirits rise alongside her. The ground fell away, and the whole of Lebanon was spread out below him, and beyond it, the rest of the world.

This was what he lived for. This was real joy.

And the best part was he was actually working legitimately now, not travelling as some half-legal mercenary searching for whoever would pay him next.

Now Dean was working as a bonafide Men of Letters courier. He travelled because he wanted to, carrying rare or unstable goods or anything that needed to be delivered quickly. It wasn’t the highest paying job in the world, but Dean had never really cared for money anyway. As long as he had enough to live happy, he was fine.

Not many jobs actually included travelling through the wilderness. Most people preferred to stay within the safe confines of the Light or Dark wards, in the towns and cities built up around the obelisks at the centres of the wards. The wilderness held no affiliation to either Light or Dark, and the natural elemental magics of the world tended to bubble up and create all sorts of havoc. Malicious spirits and beasts stalked the wilds, and the souls of the dead could be heard wailing during the night. Only the hardiest of souls chose to live there.

Dean liked it. He loved the unruliness of it all, unbound by human magic or civilisation. He liked the eccentric country folks you found throughout the place. Most of all, he loved the freedom of it. In the wilds, you didn’t need to follow Light or Dark, and there were certainly disadvantages to both.

Light and Dark magic had existed since before the world was created. It was said the God of Light, the Creator, had begun to make the world when the Goddess of Darkness grew angry and jealous, and sought to corrupt part of His creation.  There had been wars fought for millennia back then, before they had fallen into an uneasy truce. With the truce, they had marked out land as belonging to either Light or Dark, and claimed it with massive obelisks.

The simplest way to look at it was that Light magic was centred on order, and Dark magic was centred on chaos. That’s what they taught you in grade school at least, although personally Dean thought it was more accurate to say Light magic was based around stories.

Legend said that the God of Light had been a writer, an author who designed the world to tell his Grand Story, and all magic that fell under his purview worked on the same principle. The closer your spell was to using established cliché or tropes, the more likely it was to be successful. Of course, the culture of Light cities grew pretty weird to compensate, with people trying to live as much like story characters as they could, in the hopes that their magic would work out.

It almost became a self-fulfilling prophecy. As long as a story was well-known, it was likely to be effective as a spell, and the more effective it was when used as a spell, the more well-known it became.

The effect became even stronger close to the Light obelisks. In fact, random pockets of Light magic could sometimes build up in Light cities, trapping people within classic storylines for short periods of time.

It was ridiculous, and Dean hated it. The very idea of your life following some pre-ordained plot made his skin crawl. And that wasn’t even taking into account that many stories were not bright or happy. He didn’t know how people did it, enduring all the terrible stuff that happened every day, just in the hopes that it was part of some greater narrative.

He hated the idea that, according to Light theory, his mother died horrifically for a purpose, or as the beginning of a story. Sam could maybe take comfort in the idea of the Light, but that was his business.

He had been flying for several hours now and Sioux Falls was visible on the horizon. Dean began to guide Impala down. After a quick search, he located his message stone, and spoke the word to activate it. It glowed softly, emitting a low hum.

“Hello? Sioux Falls MoL Station, come in.”

There was silence for a moment, and then a familiar voice crackled across the connection.

“This is Sioux Falls MoL, Sheriff Mills. Is that Dean Winchester?”

“Jody! Nice to hear your voice.”

“I take this to mean you’ll be coming in to land in a minute.”

“I can see the airstrip now, Jody. Permission to land?”

“Permission granted.”

“See you in a second, Sheriff.”

Dean spoke the command word, and the stone turned dark.

The landing went smoothly, and Dean stepped out of the paperwing, stretching his legs. He gave a cursory glance over Impala, examining the area he’d fixed up that morning. It was still holding, Dean noted with satisfaction, and there was no other area that would need his attention any time soon.

He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jody was a practical woman, with short dark hair and a confident gait. She had been the sheriff of Sioux Falls since long before Dean had met her, and she took the safety of her citizens very seriously. They’d first met shortly after Bobby, the local MoL officer and Dean’s adoptive father, had been caught in a rather compromising and illegal position. Now, she was practically family.

There was a smile on Jody’s face as Dean stepped forwards to give her a hug.

“How’ve you been, Jody? Is Claire still set on becoming a MoL security officer?”

“She keeps listening in on my message stone, and sneaking off whenever we get a report of an aggressive non-human,” Jody said as she stepped back. Together, they began to walk Impala off the runway, moving towards the aircraft hangers nearby.

“She hasn’t been getting into any more fights, though?” Dean asked. Claire was a good fighter, if a little inexperienced, but there was a reason the Men of Letters dealt with supernatural crimes. Fighting against a non-human was a very quick way to become dead.

“Luckily, I’m usually able to intercept her before she gets too far, but I swear, one of these days she’s going to be arrested for vigilante action. Again,” Jody sighed. With Impala secured, they both headed towards Jody’s car.

“I’ll bet. Maybe if she joined the cadets?”

“I’m considering it, believe me. She could use the discipline, and I’m sure she’d love the combat training. I’m just not sure how they’ll take to her sneaking out every time she hears about a criminal on the loose.”

Dean snorted. 

Claire was a good kid, but she could be a little hard-headed. Dean had first met her when she was fifteen, an angry young teen with a chip on her shoulder. She had been tracking a rogue werewolf, and it was only Dean’s intervention that had prevented her from ending up dead. 

Afterwards Dean had sent her in Jody’s direction rather than leave her as an orphan bouncing around the system. Jody and Claire had both grumbled about it, but they grew attached to each other pretty quickly.

They chatted during the drive to Jody’s house, mostly about unimportant stuff like work. 

“Is Alex around?” Dean asked as they stepped through the door.

“She’s probably still out with her friends. If you’re lucky you’ll catch a glimpse of her at dinner. Claire should be in, though.”

Dean nodded, following Jody through to the parlour. Sure enough, there was Claire. What looked like three dozen different knives were spread on the table before her, while Claire was working on sharpening a machete. Dean felt a weird frisson of affection for the girl.

“Claire! I’ve told you not to work on your knives inside! The oils get everywhere,” Jody said. Claire rolled her eyes.

“The light’s better in here,” Claire said with a shrug. “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, brat. How’s life?” Dean asked. Claire opened her mouth to answer, but Jody interrupted by clicking her fingers. 

“Claire, I’m not done. You know the light’s only better because you waited until nightfall to begin working on them.”

“I was busy earlier. And I put down a cloth this time, so what’s the problem?”

“You know what the problem is.”

Dean rolled his eyes, making his way to the spare room. Life in Jody’s house was always sort of exciting, especially given that she was raising two teenage girls with wildly conflicting personalities. While Claire was all spitfire and adventure, Alex was cool and aloof, and she wanted nothing more than to be a regular girl with human problems instead of being haunted by her past.

Alex was a half-vampire. Born human, she had been stolen as a child by a nest of criminal vamps and raised as their blood-slave, ignorant of the world. Eventually, the Men of Letters had caught up with her “family”, and Alex had become a ward of the state. Worse, it was discovered that her captors had been feeding her vampire blood. It was always small amounts, enough to sharpen the senses and create a foreign bloodlust. It wasn’t enough to turn her, not with each dose so small and infrequent, but it was enough to make her inhuman. 

Even now, years later, and Alex was still in some state in between human and true vampire. It had made her difficult to foster out of the care system. Any parents and couples looking to adopt who were not deterred by the idea of a teen daughter with past trauma were put off by her vampirism.  

Jody had met Alex by accident, quite literally. They had knocked into each other at a train station while Alex was midway through running away from her current caretaker. Jody had taken one look at the moody, bedraggled girl and taken to her immediately, or so Jody told Dean. Alex, for her part, had been a mix of hopeful and apprehensive at the idea of yet another adult sticking their nose in her business and trying to take control of her life, but it hadn’t taken her long to realise Jody was the real deal. Alex had jumped straight into the apple pie life with Jody and Claire, and never looked back. 

By the time Dean had finished setting his stuff down in his room and walked back downstairs, Jody and Claire were at peace again, both sitting in the lounge room reading. Predictably, Claire’s book was a text on combat magic. Dean felt his lips quirk.

“You’re all settled?” Jody asked, her eyes drawn to the small packages in Dean’s hands. “What do you have there?”

Claire looked up as Dean placed the packages down on the table. She immediately tried to look as uninterested as possible, watching out of the corner of her eye as Dean slid a small box in her direction. 

“I bring gifts,” Dean said, somewhat unnecessarily. “You can open it, you know. The box isn’t going to bite you, brat.”

“Knowing you, it really could,” Claire replied, but she lifted the box anyway, eager to see inside. 

Dean knew the moment she had worked out what it was. Her face lit up, eyes wide with delight too strong to hide beneath her veneer of teenage indifference. He leaned back, feeling like gloating.

“That better not be another blade, Dean,” Jody asked, something sharp in her eyes. Dean winced, glancing to Jody. 

“It’s not, I swear. This is even better. Far safer,” Dean amended, watching as Claire took the amulet out. “It warms whenever someone nearby is thinking of harming another person, and means to go through with it. MoL officers use them for crowd control during large events.”

“And I bet it would be all sorts of use to a budding vigilante,” Jody said, her voice flat. “Dean, a word please?”

Dean felt nervous, following her into the next room, but he was still pleased to have given something that Claire was so obviously happy with. He smiled as he heard her call thanks just before Jody shut the door.

Jody didn’t speak at first, going to select a wine glass for herself and pouring half a glass of merlot. She took a sip, sighed, and placed the glass aside. 

“Explain, please, why you are giving Claire more tools to get herself killed with? I thought we already talked about this.”

“It isn’t a knife.” Dean flinched at his reflexive statement. Gods, it wasn’t like he wanted to pick a fight. Jody’s expression grew harsher.

“Yes, but having one of those amulets is going to make her feel even more invincible than she usually does, and that’s going to make her reckless.”

Dean felt something in him deflate. 

“I’m sorry, Jody. I should have run it by you first.” 

“Yes, you should have.” Jody remained stern for a moment before she sighed again. “Thank you, though, for thinking of her. For thinking of her safety. We both know she’ll be sneaking out either way.”

“You know, I got gifts for you and Alex too,” Dean added. 

“Nothing dangerous?”

“Alex’s is a 1st edition of  _ He Came in the Night _ , yours is a lovely vintage to share with Donna whenever she next visits.”

Jody snorted, shaking her head. 

“I know your game, Winchester, trying to butter me up so you can slip that amulet over to Claire,” Jody said, though the words had no bite. “This vintage… red or white?”

“Plum. Edoshinrin.”

“Forgiven.”

With that, they went back into the lounge.

Alex did show up for dinner in the end, though she didn’t say a word beyond a greeting to Dean or anyone else at the table. He did get a hug after Alex unwrapped her romance novel, and she quickly disappeared again, to start reading Dean assumed. Jody rolled her eyes, but Dean could tell she was happy with her little family. Dean felt lucky to be included. Jody was such a caring person, he was glad to know her.

The next morning, Jody saw him off from the airport, but only after making him swear to visit again soon.

* * *

 

Castiel stared up into the infinite sky, watching as the clouds meandered by, and contemplated life. The tenacious bright little souls that wandered the earth and sky, seeking pleasure and joy and company. The series of events, both good and terrifying, that defined your experience of the world. 

Life was funny. Only a few centuries ago, Castiel had lived as a soldier, fighting against many of his own brethren, but then things had changed. Together, they had decided to end the war, rebelling against their leaders, and declared no more. By now the peace had lasted so long, war was nothing but a distant memory. 

Castiel drifted, caught within the gentle breezes of the late evening. Reaching up with hands made of air, Castiel reshaped a passing cloud just slightly, until the fluffy cumulus resembled a roc with wings outstretched. He smiled, and let the cloud drift by.

As one of the Zephyrim, this had originally been his purpose. Shepherds of the sky, the humans called them. Beings of air and energy, responsible for creating the clouds and rain and storms that weathered the land below. 

The humans were half right. The Zephyrim could certainly create weather, but that hardly meant they were responsible for all of it. Nature was very reliable in that respect--

“Cassie! There you are!”

Castiel blinked, startled from his thoughts. He twisted through the air until he faced Balthazar. The other zephyr grinned, glancing up at the cloud Castiel had reshaped. 

“A bird? Really?” With a flourish, Balthazar chose a new cloud and reshaped it until it resembled a penis and testes. “There! That’s far more fun.”

Castiel quirked one eyebrow, unimpressed. “You have the sense of humour of a teenager.”

“Come on, you know the humans love it,” Balthazar said, unperturbed. “They think clouds do this by accident!”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but he didn’t try to argue any further. It wasn’t like Balthazar was wrong. 

“So, what are you doing today? Still following your human?” Balthazar asked, gesturing towards the nearby town. From so high in the air, Sioux Falls looked tiny, little specks of brightly coloured terracotta roofs contrasting pleasantly with the greenery all around. Towering over the houses and buildings, the white stone of the Light Obelisk glittered in the evening light.

“Dean landed earlier today. I think he is staying the night with Jody Mills,” Castiel replied, picking out her house among the others. “I believe he will be leaving for Low Wiccombe tomorrow morning.”

“Uh huh. And obviously, his adoring zephyr will follow, acting as the wind beneath his wings,” Balthazar said with a wink. “Does that mean you’re free tonight while your Dean  _ gets some _ ?”

“Balthazar! Don’t speak of him that way.”

“He is staying the night at a woman’s house, Cassie, be real.”

“Jody is a friend of Dean’s family, not his lover.”

“You say that like someone cannot be both. Many of my friends are also my lovers, and believe me that can really add a little something extra when you’re getting close--.”

“In this case, they are not,” Castiel interrupted. “Dean often speaks of Jody the way one speaks of their mother, not a lover. I know how Dean acts around lovers.” After a moment, Castiel added, “Please stop telling me about your lovers.”

“Aww, Cassie, I know you love hearing updates about my love life.”

“I do not.”

“You do so, my innocent lovelorn friend,” Balthazar teased, grinning. “But let’s not argue semantics. Your human’s safe, so let’s go do something fun!”

“...what do you have in mind?”

As it turns out, what Balthazar had in mind was a race across the Great Grass Sea, the enormous grassy plains that stretched from the tundras of the North all the way to the Chihuahuan Desert in the South. They were wide enough to be an ocean and flat, without anything resembling a landmark aside from a few large boulders and the occasional grave of an unlucky traveller.

The Great Grass Sea was also known for some of the strongest gusts anywhere inland, which made it a perfect place for any Zephyrim that wanted to play around for a bit.

Castiel was faster. He shot ahead the moment the race began, with Balthazar close behind. They rushed across the grasslands like a great gale, drawing the cold air of the north down after them. Below, the land sped by, a dark blur in the night lit only by the waning light of the stars. Castiel was still in the lead by the time they had reached the deserts, but only just. 

Laughing, he challenged Balthazar to another race back north, and was unsurprised when Balthazar took off immediately. Castiel lost that race, and the one after, his speed nothing before Balthazar’s endurance, but it was fun all the same. Sometime after midnight, they both settled down to rest above the forests near Mount Winmau, chatting about nothing much as the night went on. Balthazar related the latest details of Samandriel’s crush on Hannah. Castiel spoke of a wonderful conversation he had had with a friendly jabberwock he had met in the mountains near Teotihuacan del Norte. 

As dawn grew close, they settled into the comfortable silence that existed between longtime friends, until Castiel felt a note of something melancholy in Balthazar’s magic. 

“I miss Meg,” Balthazar said. Castiel grimaced, but didn’t bother to reply. He missed Meg too, but there was little they could do about it. She was the one who had betrayed their trust, and she was the one currently on the run from the law.

A large part of him felt like her infractions were unforgivable. People had died because of her, both human and elemental. The other part of him simply missed the friend he’d fought beside for centuries. He missed her wit, and the way she concealed how much she cared for all those she considered friends behind sardonic quips and sarcasm.

She had been his best friend, and the hollow she had left ached sharply at times.

Balthazar had it worse, in a way. They had all been close, but Castiel knew Balthazar’s admiration for Meg ran deeper than his own. Balthazar had been planning on admitting his affections for her and asking for hers in return, when the details of her betrayal were discovered. Balthazar had taken her subsequent disappearance the hardest of all. 

“I just wish we could speak to her again. Hear her side of things.”

“Balthazar…”

“I know what she did was terrible, but I just wish we could talk again,” Balthazar sighed. 

Castiel said nothing. Talking of Meg never brought anything but pain.

“Sorry. We were having such a good time, and I’m ruining it,” Balthazar laughed, the sound bitter. 

“You’re not ruining anything. Feeling pain doesn’t mean happiness is tarnished,” Castiel said. Balthazar snorted, shaking his head.

“Oh, Cassie, you’re far too kind,” Balthazar said, gathering Castiel close to press a kiss against his forehead. “I’m just being silly. Go on back to your human. I know you’re feeling anxious now that there’s sunlight on the horizon.”

“I won’t leave you alone while I know you’re upset.”

“I shan’t be lonely for long, darling. Ezekiel and I have a little meetup planned for later. As always, you’re free to join us if you want. I assure you, Zeke is very talented, even when compared with myself. It will really be quite the experience.”

“As always, I must decline.”

Balthazar sighed dramatically, clearly back to his histrionic self. Castiel smiled, before glancing to the horizon. It really was getting light. 

“Go on, Cassie. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely. Now get going! Your human isn’t going to ogle himself!” 

Castiel rolled his eyes as he flew away. No matter how many times he explained it to Balthazar, the zephyr was still convinced Castiel had a crush on Dean.

* * *

 

Castiel had first seen Dean when the human was foolish enough to fly through the turbulent air around the southernmost Sirocco Mountains, an area well-known for being inhabited by powerful spirits. Inexperienced, but enthusiastic, Dean had tumbled through the air, whistling strong gusts to keep himself aloft every time he made a mistake. With every close call, every last-minute save, the human would cry out in exhilarated laughter, screaming his joy across the sky.

It was nearly cute, in a way. Despite his initial annoyance that a human had travelled so close to such a sacred place, Castiel found himself reluctantly amused by Dean’s reckless thrill-seeking. So much so that Castiel was even willing to lend minimal assistance when the human’s paperwing came too close to crashing.

Of course, Dean had never noticed that the last breeze had been enhanced by a little of Castiel’s own magic, guiding him back onto a safer altitude. Castiel had merely rolled his eyes, letting the human continue on his way past the mountains.

It was a few weeks later when he next encountered Dean, though at the time he had still been unaware of Dean’s name. Castiel had easily recognised the dare-devil human, and found himself smiling in anticipation.

Surprisingly, Dean’s flying skills were greatly improved. Instead of the reckless tumbling of before, Dean appeared to be maneuvering in a structured, ordered manner, practicing rolls and climbs and falls and spins. His precision wasn’t quite there yet, but it was obvious he was quickly learning.

Castiel had watched, growing ever more curious about this strange human and thanking both Light and Dark that Raphael hadn’t been nearby to take offense at the human’s proximity to their mountains.

Over the next few months, Castiel had encountered Dean again and again, and every time Dean seemed to have massively improved. Very soon he was dancing across the sky as agile as any eagle, taking advantage of every updraft and eddy. He was fascinating to watch, and Castiel found he greatly admired just how quickly Dean took to the skill of flying. There was no other aviator Castiel had ever seen with such natural skill at calling the winds.

He grew curious enough that one day Castiel decided to follow. He wanted to see what this human was like among others, because surely any being as free in the air must be a wondrous creature to know.

Castiel learned Dean’s name shortly after Dean landed in a small, Darkly leaning town by the sea, and it wasn’t long after that Castiel learned Dean was as corrupt as any other human. The man spent his entire time on the ground carousing and getting into brawls. He spoke with crude, harsh words, and took others to bed with empty promises.

Castiel hadn’t been prepared for the sharp ache of disappointment. It confused him. What exactly had he expected? Humans were like this, it was simply in their nature. He had no idea why his own expectations for Dean had been so much higher. Loving to fly was no guarantee of character.

For many months more, Castiel had simply ignored Dean. He travelled to the north, across the Great Inland Steppe and beyond to the snow-covered tundra, and met with the elementals who preferred the cold and wind.

But eventually, the warm airs of the Sirocco Mountains drew him back south. And Dean was still there, flying through their territory and dancing across the sky. Castiel could not deny that curiosity about Dean had been a factor in drawing him south. Even if Dean was like every other human – crude, harsh and corrupt – Castiel still enjoyed watching him fly.

It was as he watched Dean call up the wind to take off that Castiel suddenly understood. The higher the paperwing climbed, the brighter Dean seemed to grow until he was nearly incandescent. The Dean who wandered the town was listless, purposeless, indulging in whatever he could. The Dean in the sky was the real Dean, free to live and play and be what he wanted.

And looking more closely, it seemed Dean was growing there too.

Castiel watched as the man tried to improve himself and help those around him. And for the first time, Castiel began to wish he could interact with humans. He wanted to know Dean. He wanted to speak with him, learn what sort of person he was. He wanted to help Dean as he tried to improve himself, and fly alongside him in the clouds.

It was an impossible idea. While earth and water elementals were able to take physical forms, and fire elementals could create visual mirages of human form, Castiel had never heard of an air elemental able to do either. At a very basic level, he was composed of kinetic energy, the constantly shifting currents of air. The only interaction he was able to manage with physical matter was to push it around, and even then the scale was all wrong. His spirit form was many times larger than a human or even Dean’s paperwing. Dean himself could fit in the palm of Castiel’s hand! He was designed by the gods to craft and guide tornadoes and storms across the sky. Fine, human-sized magic like turning a single page of a book? Hopeless. 

But Castiel was nothing if not tenacious. Over the last ten years, achieving a physical form had nearly become an obsession of his. He visited each of the most powerful spell-casters he knew among the air elementals to ask if they had ever managed such a feat – if it was even possible!

No one would admit to even contemplating the idea, though Castiel was certain he wasn’t the first air elemental to have considered the idea over the millennia they had existed. He could only conclude that they had had no success, or were not willing to share it if they had.

This put Castiel in a rather difficult position. Given their inherent non-corporeal nature, the air elementals had no written records of anything. All history and culture among them was passed down by oral record, and most of them were so old they had been present when the events of history happened in the first place.

Unfortunately, this meant that the development of new magics had a tendency to stagnate, even when compared to the other types of elemental. If a particular spell had been effective in battle two hundred years before, then what was the point in changing it now? And if a particularly talented air mage died before revealing the secrets of their magic, then there were no diaries or written records to examine.

Worst of all, there was little chance of learning from other cultures, which all tended to use writing to record their magical prowess. Even the fire elementals had a system of writing, while the air elementals remained almost entirely illiterate.

Admittedly, Castiel had never viewed this as a problem in the past. It was only now that he was seeking to move beyond the boundaries of their own natural magicks that he could truly see how limited they had become. Humanity and the other mortals had formed great cities and societies, while his brethren drifted across the sky.

And libraries! Was there any concept more wondrous than a library? A centre for learning and celebrating the wide wealth of knowledge of the world. If he could read, then all of that knowledge would be available for his perusal. He could learn to construct a solid body within a week!

Balthazar was the first of his friends to learn the exact reason why Castiel was seeking to be human. He laughed. He teased for days. And he vowed to help Castiel “get some of that sweet, human ass”, despite Castiel’s every assurance that he was completely disinterested in sex. Balthazar would only wink.

As it was, Castiel was limited to whatever knowledge he could acquire from anyone willing to teach him. The first he had asked was his dear friend Meg, a fire elemental with a nearly perfect illusion of humanity, and a tendency to change names and form every other decade. She taught him to read the runic language of the phosphori, those coiling erratic letters burnt onto bare wood. Whole spells could be woven into a single anchoring rune for everything from leaving messages for other phosphori to setting traps for your enemies to creating illusions of heat and light.

Castiel found it fascinating, if a little useless for his purposes. He was unable to use fire magic at all, not even to create a simple flame. The closest he could manage was the heat generated by lightning, but electricity was far less willing to be guided into familiar shapes than fire was, so he had no manner with which to create the runes in the first place. 

He encountered a similar problem when he approached Anna to learn how she worked water magic. Anna lived in one of the great rivers of the east, not too far from New Alexandria, so most of the time her body was one with the waters of the stream. The few times she was required to interact with anything solid, she would simply cause herself to turn to ice. The Undini had their own runes, of course, though theirs were weirdly angular and spindly, and almost without fail symmetrical. Anna explained that the runes had originally been made from ice crystals grown into shape, though many Undini nowadays used ink and paper. Either way, Castiel was unable to form them within the limitations he had to work with. 

Inias was helpful, if a little confused, when Castiel asked for his help in learning about earth magic. As an Oread, he was Castiel’s opposite in many ways, primarily in that he was a physical being. He had a body, shaped like a normal human and crafted of living clay, and he had always existed that way. Inias found it nearly as difficult to comprehend incorporeality as Castiel found the idea of gravity. Honestly, there wasn’t much that Castiel even understood about how earth magic worked, but he listened carefully anyway.

The problem was, despite all he learned of the techniques to create a body, none of it could be adapted for his situation. He didn’t possess the ability to control water or shape earth. While he could manipulate light to a degree – distorting air pressure to create mirages - it was a crude process that relied entirely on external sources of light. He couldn’t even control the wavelength of the light, let alone forge the light into the image of a body.

And nearly every other sentient being with the ability to use magic already possessed a body, so they hardly needed spells to craft new ones from scratch.

It was a frustrating state of affairs, but there was little he could do to change it.

* * *

 

Castiel was there the next morning, as Dean readied Impala for flight. He watched as Dean whistled up the winds, and Castiel moved forwards to offer his assistance, lifting Impala off the ground. She recognised his magic, and practically wiggled in excitement.

Castiel followed Dean up into the air, joining the winds that held Impala aloft. Dean began to bank, turning towards the wilderness.

Castiel began to sing, his voice echoing ahead across the sky, warning any malevolent spirits of his approach, and that Dean was under his protection. It was routine, now, to sing for Dean’s good fortune, to follow as they flew through spirit territory and glare at any being that chose to approach while Dean was in neutral airspace.

Dean never knew that Castiel was acting as his guardian. Couldn’t know, since Castiel was all but undetectable to Dean’s human senses, despite Castiel’s best efforts to be heard or seen.

He would never be heard or seen by Dean. It had been a slow, painful realisation, over several years as each attempt to create a human body failed, and the options remaining became few and far between. Hope lifted him temporarily, only to be dashed against the rocks below when the method proved unusable.

The fact was, the magic he was searching for didn’t exist. Not in any form he could actually use. He couldn’t transfigure himself from energy into matter, and despite the rumours about powerful spell-casters hiding within the wilds, every spell-caster he’d tracked down had proven to be either charlatans or have wildly exaggerated their abilities. There were no spell-casters he knew of powerful enough to transfigure him.

Well. There was still the Story Mage. Castiel had been searching for him for years, without any success. He was inclined to think the Mage only existed as a rumour, except that the rumours had been around for centuries, and remained remarkably consistent. The Mage specialised in powerful Light magic, powerful enough to change the entire course of your life. Powerful enough to disrupt all the lives around you too. 

Castiel dismissed the rumours about trading your soul for your deepest desires. It was too common, too similar to the regular swindling done by unscrupulous Light magicians. Far more interesting were the rumours of humans who had sought eternal youth in exchange for rare texts. Hard to verify, but there were enough non-magical humans that appeared never to age to indicate that someone did have such a power, and Castiel knew for a fact that eternal youth was not something the average Light magician was capable of creating. 

And then there was the story of Prometheus. Many humans, especially among the Light theology, worshipped Prometheus as a saint of sorts, for he was the one who had brought the secrets of Light magic to Man, stolen from one of the masters of Light magic. Supposedly, this master had then cursed Prometheus as punishment for his theft, weaving him into a powerful Story of regret and renewal. Castiel had never met the man, but he knew him to be a true figure in history, and thought him long dead until Anna told him of a chance encounter she’d had with the man nearly a century ago. The Prometheus she had met had been cursed to die by the end of each day and have his liver eaten by an eagle, only to be resurrected the next morning, whole and unharmed. It was a very powerful magic, beyond most of what Castiel had ever seen, and it certainly fit closely with what he knew of the Prometheus legend. It was just a shame that Prometheus’s memory had been so badly compromised by his numerous deaths that he was unable to remember who had cursed him. Without a clear idea of the Story anchoring the curse, it had taken Anna years to work out how to unweave it.

All added together, none of these rumours really confirmed that the Story Mage was real, only that very powerful Light magi did exist. So if Castiel was going to track one down, why not seek the most famous of them all?

According to the rumours of the last few decades, the Mage, if he did exist, was currently based somewhere in the mountains between Sonora and St Budeaux. Cas was disinclined to believe said rumours, since that would place the Story Mage, the most powerful Light sorcerer to exist, squarely in the middle of Dark territory. Frankly, the very idea of someone working powerful Light magic within the Dark was laughable. 

The only real support for the theory were the accounts of beings who had encountered the Mage’s wards, said to be so powerful and subtle that they could turn you away before you even realised they were in your thoughts. You would approach his residence only to suddenly remember a vital task somewhere else, and many times completely forget why it was you had been seeking the Mage until you were long away from his home. There was no counterspell or protection except, it was said, if the Mage noticed a potential plot hanging around your shoulders. Then the Mage himself would guide you directly through the wards.

Castiel thought it was nonsense, but then again he had never had any particular affinity for Light magic. Maybe the Mage really could sense the potential for a good Story wrapped around you. Either way, as with many others before him, Castiel had had no luck discovering the home of the Story Mage. So instead he resigned himself to a life unnoticed by the one being he admired the most. He would guard Dean, protect him from the dangers of the spirit world, and feel glad for Dean’s joy. It was enough.

It had to be enough. 


	2. Nimbostratus

_ “You’ve seen the Light Obelisk at the centre of the city? That huge, brilliant shining thing, surrounded by a haze of power? That is the sign of the Light’s blessings upon our land. Near the Obelisk, we are safe from chaos and the malicious spirits of the wilds. That is why each of our cities and towns and villages has a Light Obelisk at its centre. But some people, some heretics, chose to abandon the Light and embrace Darkness. They build their lawless settlements around Black Obelisks, and lead lives of squalor and violence. Be glad you were born in a city of Light.” _

The Blessed Lands of Light

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

“Two months, Benny! Seriously, I don’t know what’s holding the kid back!”

“Nerves, I’d guess,” Benny shrugged, rolling his eyes as Dean gestured for emphasis.

“They’ve been dating – what? Four years? – and you know how Sammy is. By the time he told me he was planning on popping the question, he would have been thinking on it for months! I’m telling you, man, I thought I was gonna get a call as soon as I touched down in Sioux Falls telling me to come straight back!” Dean exclaimed.

Benny simply shook his head, and took a drink of his beer.

Benny was a vampire, a mid-level Dark practitioner, and Dean’s best friend. Dean always made sure to visit when he was flying by the southern coastline.

Dean had met him years ago.

It was just after Sam had left to study Light magic at New Alexandria. Not long after, Dad had abandoned him with nothing but Impala, heading off on another shady job. Dean had been feeling hurt, betrayed by Sam for believing their lives were stories. Free to choose for the first time, Dean had decided to learn Dark magic.

He’d flown to the closest Dark town he knew. Very quickly, it turned out that Dean was a natural. The philosophy of the Dark appealed to him very strongly.

Unlike Light magic, Dark magic was centred on chaos. It rejected the very idea of an overarching narrative and the Grand Story, citing instead that everything was random. Bad things happened. Good things happened. There was no greater purpose to anyone’s actions, and no cosmic consequences to anything anyone did.

Admittedly, Dean had gotten a little caught up in it all. If it was all chaos, all random, then nothing really mattered in the end. Life. Death. Good. Bad. Whatever.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d acted during those years. It had been a bad time, and a bad crowd. If nothing mattered, you could do whatever you wanted. You could take whatever pleasures you wanted, you could hurt whoever you wanted, and it would never matter. Dean had been one of the worst of them, sleeping with whoever, getting in fights every other night, and drinking until it hurt.

Meeting Benny had changed all that. Benny had shown him the opposite side of the coin. If Dark philosophy was right, and nothing really mattered, then why not be kind? Why not be good? Why not try to improve things for everyone around?

Dean had been too ashamed to try and change at first, but Benny must have seen something in him he liked because the man was persistent. With his help, Dean got himself back on track, and they had been close friends ever since. After all of that, Dean found he had lost his taste for the Dark. It had been an escape, but all Dean really wanted was freedom from the Stories of his childhood.

It was only once he took a step back that Dean realised how odd Dark magic really was. It was very nearly the mirror opposite of Light magic, and you could actually produce nearly identical effects with the two magic systems. The difference was that, while Light magic followed a logical, ordered progression, Dark magic worked by random happenstance. The apparent chaos began to double up, parallel, following its own bizarre rules and order. In a funny way, it was just as structured and ordered as Light magic, but sometimes it resulted in highly unlikely series of events and coincidences.

Dean supposed it made sense. All the Dark spells he’d ever used had produced his intended result each and every time he used them, as long as he cast them correctly. If Dark magic was truly as chaotic and random as most people assumed, surely replicable results would be impossible. It was just that the order was less obvious than Light magic. 

Advanced Dark magic took this all a step further. Dean never got far enough to understand exactly how it worked, but apparently it was something to do with quantum mechanics and the nature of the universe itself. All he knew was that if you got too close to a Dark obelisk, you risked being spontaneously being turned into a chicken, or even a bowl of petunias. 

Many of the towns within Dark lands were chaotic, filled with people as aimless as Dean had been, all of them screwing and gambling and drinking their lives away. It was easy to see where they had gotten their terrible reputations among Light cities. 

That wasn’t all there was to the Dark, however. Strangely enough, Dark cities were actually brilliant places to study science, if you could deal with the locals. Far from the influence of Story magic, but still within the protective confines of godly warding, the Dark lands had always been popular places to study natural sciences. In the last few decades, with the discovery of quantum mechanics, the scientific institutes had been receiving a great deal of attention from the foremost Dark magic theorists. It was hoped that they were finally close to understanding the nature of Dark magic itself, some theory of Chaos. 

The entirety of the scientific world had benefited as a result of the sudden influx of funding and students, and new discoveries were being made every year. Technology had advanced quickly, and things like aeroplanes very quickly went from scientific theory to everyday fact. Steam-powered cars had been an amazing feat of engineering when Dean was little. Now they were so common and cheap, the streets were full of them.

Dean didn’t really find it all that interesting. He preferred magical engineering to mechanical engineering. It was all right up Benny’s alley, though, and Dean loved seeing the spark in his eyes when he began explaining his current steam-powered project, whatever it was.

* * *

 

“Brother, the phone’s for you,” Benny called. Curious, Dean wandered over to the telephone table, and took the receiver, only to grin at Sam’s familiar tone.

“Dean! She said yes!” Sam said.

“She said yes? Dude, that’s awesome! I knew she would!”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be having an engagement party this Friday, do you think you can make it back here in time?” Sam asked.

“Of course I’ll be there!” If he flew overnight, he could make it back Wednesday morning. “Have you called Jody yet?”

“She’s next on our list. Charlie and Pamela just ‘happened to be in the area’, of course.”

“Of course they were,” Dean sighed, smiling. With Charlie as a genius natural magic user, and Pamela  a psychic, that couple were always in the right place at the right time. It was a rather annoying practice sometimes. “I’ll see you soon.”

Dean hung up, before turning to Benny.

“You’re leaving right now, aren’t you?” Benny crooked one sardonic eyebrow, but Dean could only grin.

“Of course! It’s a celebration, man, Sammy’ll need me there asap!” His smile faded a little. “Are you staying?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“If you want to come, you can. Eileen likes you, and Alex always wants to talk to you.”

“It’s your brother’s engagement, I’m not going to go around stepping on his toes.”

Dean grimaced, but didn’t argue. Benny and Sam had been at odds nearly from the moment they met, and never spent any time near each other if they could help it. Dean wasn’t even sure what had started their feuding, but neither man could stand being in the same room for more than a few minutes without making waspish comments to each other. Benny never explained, and Sam only shrugged off his inquiries.

“You’ll be at the wedding, though?” Dean asked. 

Benny gave a tight smile. “I’ll think about it. Maybe if Eileen asks.”

Dean didn’t push. He knew that was as close to yes as Benny would commit to.

It didn’t take long for Dean to pack up his belongings into Impala. Benny saw him off.

“You sure you don’t want to stay until tomorrow morning? There’s only another hour of sunlight left.” Benny asked.

“Nah, I love a little night-flying. I can stop off at Kania if I need to take a break.”

“If you’re sure.”

Benny stepped forwards and Dean met him with a hug.

He climbed into Impala, and he was away.

* * *

 

He was flying through the mountains when he first noticed the storm clouds. They were distant still, but there was this peculiar colour to them, and – he took out his binoculars to examine the clouds – yep, that was definitely magical static around the edges.

This could turn bad. Magical storms were often a lot more vicious than regular weather, and a lot less predictable. But the clouds were distant, and not on his direct route, he could probably avoid them completely.

An hour later, and Dean knew he had made a mistake. The storm had quickly spread to fill the entire sky. Random pockets of magic were bursting against Impala’s wings and causing turbulence. He definitely needed to land before the storm took up properly.

Unfortunately, he was currently smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. Below him were the eastern foothills of the mountains, and nothing but uninhabited wilderness. Kania was still another two hours away.

The rain curtain hit. Dean cringed away from the heavy drops, squinting to see through his goggles. The anti-weather spell over Impala’s cockpit was already failing.

A sudden crosswind nearly upended the glider. Dean grappled for control, trying to whistle the winds into anything remotely friendly. For a second it seemed to work, but then Impala was spinning out of control again.

He had to take her down, even if it was the wilderness. There was no way she could survive this kind of rough weather.

Desperate, Dean gave up on elemental magic and decided to try something stronger. Quickly he called up the correct runes and symbols, drawing out a Dark spell for safe flight through the storm. The magic strained, but it held.

Quickly Dean began to guide Impala down. All he needed to do was reach the ground. From there he could summon up much stronger wards to protect them both.

He was less than a mile from landing when a blinding light took over his vision, accompanied by a roaring so loud Dean could hardly believe it would exist. He felt the Dark magic fail, like a punch to the guts.

Suddenly Impala was tumbling through the sky, all of her flight magic failing. He felt her wing being torn off by the wind, and they were falling—

* * *

 

Dean awoke with a jolt. The storm was still raging about them, but the wind seemed to have calmed down.

He shivered, his hands trying to find purchase in the mud.

Mud.

He was on the ground. Impala must have crashed.

Dean stood as quickly as he was able, taking stock of his injuries. He didn’t seem to have broken anything, although he was a mass of bruises. His scarf and jacket collar were soaked through, and so were his trousers. His boots were filled with water, and he was cold.

Fragments of thin wood littered the ground, as well as scraps of laminated paper, quickly being whipped away by the wind. It was too dark to see far, but Impala must be nearby.

A flash of lightning illuminated everything for a second. Dean tried to take in as much as he could.

He appeared to be in a small valley between two hills. Trees were in every direction, with no sign of his paperwing glider. Of course not. She was painted black.

He couldn’t start exploring now.

As quick as he could, Dean set up a diamond of protection, and a smaller diamond within it. Next, another anti-weather charm, and finally he had some peace from the incessant rain.

He needed a fire. He was shivering pretty regularly now, and it would only take so long for hypothermia to set in if he stayed in his wet clothes. But this was a dangerous place to set up any light source.

He had to risk it.

Dean gathered what he could of the soaked tinder from the ground, piling it up in the rough shape of a fire.

He glanced around, still nervous of making any light. Maybe he could hide the fire. Benny had been working on an anti-light charm recently, although he hadn’t gotten it to fully work.  Dean knew the basics though.

Fully shivering now, Dean traced out the anti-light charm, adding the spell to the diamond of protection. Hopefully that would strengthen it further.

Finally, he lit his fire with a spark of natural magic.

Cold, wet, and miserable, Dean settled in for the night.

* * *

 

Castiel watched as Dean settled down for sleep on the damp ground, his spellwork doing what it could to keep him dry and warm in the night.

Beyond the range of Castiel’s own magic, the storm was still raging. It held the familiar taste of Raphael’s magic, and Castiel felt a momentary surge of anger at the elemental. Raphael had very little cares for the mortals that walked the earth below him. He spent most of his time flying high through the atmosphere, trailing clouds behind him, or else dancing above the oceans and whipping the waves up into huge peaks. Raphael enjoyed making storms simply for the beauty of them, and while Castiel agreed there was a beauty to raging winds and vibrant lightning, he found it hard to condone the way Raphael revelled in the destruction storms caused to the mortals below.

Luckily, most mortals lived behind the powerful Light or Dark warding surrounding the obelisks, which took a lot of the bite out of magically induced storms.

Castiel had done what he could to shield Dean from the worst of the storm. If it had been made by any lesser being than Raphael, he might have been able to unweave it, but Raphael’s magic was too strong. Castiel had helped guide Dean down, away from the ferocious winds, but at the last moment his strength had failed.

In that second, Impala had been snatched from Castiel’s grasp, sent careening into the treetops. Castiel had followed, locating Dean quickly, but by then it was too late. Impala had been destroyed, and Dean lay unconscious on the ground.

Already, Castiel could sense the malicious eyes of wild things turning towards Dean. He drew as close as he could, sending up his magic in a protective spiral around the human. None of them would touch Dean.

Now, Dean had awoken, and set up his camp, he had no immediate need for Castiel’s protection. He would be fine for the night.

But come morning, Dean would be stranded, deep within the wilderness and surrounded by hostile creatures and spirits.

He had to help. He needed to help, do anything more than watch uselessly from the air. He could barely interact with physical things at all!

There was a flicker at the back of his mind, a memory of a conversation with Balthazar several months before.

The Story Mage. Castiel had to find the Story Mage, and gain a human body. He had to guard Dean. Surely if anything qualified for a good Story, this was it.

Castiel shot into the sky, calling out across the sky for Balthazar, his voice like a crack of thunder. A distant echoing cry answered him, maybe 40 miles away. Castiel covered the distance in minutes to find Balthazar wide eyed and excited, staring back at the storm on the horizon.

“Cassie! Did you just come from the storm? It looks like a good one! I was about to go looking for you, but now we find Samandriel and Hannah and everyone else and go flying!” Balthazar exclaimed enthusiastically. “Is it one of Raphael’s? He really knows how to craft a good thunderhead—“

“Balthazar, Dean’s glider crashed!” Castiel interrupted. Balthazar’s smile faded.

“What? Your human tried to _ fly _ through that thing?”

“Yes, I guarded him as best I could, but it was hopeless. Impala was ripped to shreds.”

“Oh, Castiel. I’m so sorry.”

Castiel shook his head. “He hasn’t died, Balthazar, he’s just stranded in the wilderness. I need your help.”

Balthazar blinked in surprise, but nodded. “You have it.”

“I’m going to seek the Story Mage. I need to gain a human body, to properly guide Dean back to civilisation. Can you guard him until I return? I may not be back for days, and I am sure he’ll try moving as soon as first light.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Call on the water elementals if you need to, I know there are a few friendly streams between him and the Light wards. I need to go.”

“Good luck, Cassie!” Balthazar called out, but Castiel was already flying into the distance.

* * *

 

There had been rumours for decades about the Story Mage. An elemental, and a very powerful Light practitioner. Some rumours said he was chosen by the God of Light himself to record the Grand Story. Others said he was merely a recluse fascinated by literature. There were hundreds of rumours about where he lived, even if you limited the general area to the desert stretching between Sonora and St Budeaux. 

Castiel darted across the desert hills, following the border where the Dark met the wilderness. No matter how he thought of it, it made little sense for a Light mage to be based in Dark territory. Much more likely that he resided beyond the reach of the Dark wards. 

Every minute or so, Castiel would pause, calling out for the Mage, only to fly on when there was no answer. The hours slowly ticked by in this way, and Castiel grew ever more desperate. 

A pulse of Light magic drew his attention. Castiel stilled, surveying the land around him. It looked no more distinct than the rest of the desert, but something felt different here.

“Hello?” he called out. There was no answer in the cold desert night. “Hello? I seek the Story Mage! Wherever you are!”

Still there was no answer.

Despairing, Castiel glanced around for any sign that he had been heard.

A small flame flickered into being near the crest of one hill. Castiel flew to it, only a little startled when the floating flame flickered out, and another appeared a short distance away. Castiel followed them further and further, passing through a flexible warding spell, until he reached a small clearing surrounded by pine trees and scraggly cliffs. Nestled within the clearing was a small cottage made from sod and tin. A small light flickered above the doorway.

“Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. And then the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Castiel attempted to fold himself smaller to fit within the human-sized dwelling. He was only partially successful. Still more than twice the height of a human, he was just small enough to duck into the building without leaving any of himself outside, moving stiffly as he tried to keep his body compressed.

The room was larger from inside than the building appeared to be, but even so, it was stifling. Every surface within the room was covered in books. Stacks and stacks and stacks of them, towering up towards the ceiling, like the insides of a cave system. Glow stones were scattered among the books.

Castiel wandered between the towers, until he found a cleared area with two cushioned armchairs and a fireplace. A portly looking man was settled within the chair, reading a book. His aura felt non-human, but Castiel couldn’t quite place what sort of being he was.

The man suddenly glanced up with an expression of pleasant surprise.

“Ah, Castiel! I’ve been expecting you! I’d offer you a seat, but I don’t think you could make use of it,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

“You are the Story Mage?” Castiel asked.

“Yes, I am,” the man smiled. “Although, locally, I’m known as Marv.”

“Marv, I need your assistance. I need to be able to interact with the physical world. I need a human body for myself.”

Marv frowned in confusion.

“Surely you can already interact with the physical world already? Albeit, in a limited way—“

“It isn’t enough. I need to be able to interact with humans, not just cause breezes in trees and make paper flutter.”

Marv looked nonplussed for a second, before he began to smirk. “Ah, I think I understand. You want to  _ know _ a human.” He chuckled, before going back to his book. “I’m afraid I don’t craft spells for random flights of lust or whimsy.”

“What? No, that’s not why – there is someone very important to me who is in danger, and I need to have a way to help them.”

“Really?” Marv removed his glasses, leaning forwards in his chair. “Now, that is far more interesting.”

“Can you help me?”

Marv appeared to think for a short while, before slowly nodding. “Yes, I think I will.”

Castiel felt overcome with relief, feeling as if he were drifting downwards through the calm after a storm. “Thank you.”

Marv nodded graciously, before standing with a short groan. He stretched, placing his book aside. “These human bodies, so fussy! Always complaining about being in one place too long, or not getting enough food. Are you sure you want one? There is probably another way to help your important person.”

Castiel could feel time and desperation to help Dean calling him. He needed to be back already, to help Dean. It was nearing dawn, Dean would soon need him.

But he had to think this through. Worse than inaction would be taking the wrong action, or choosing to do something that would prevent him from being of assistance.

In his current, natural form, the help he could provide was minimal. He was invisible to Dean’s sight, so he couldn’t act as a guide. He was insubstantial, so without Dean’s glider to lift into the air, there was no safe way for him to carry Dean out of the wilderness. He could scare away many of the antagonists Dean would likely encounter in the wilderness, but the more determined or hungry ones would not be long deterred. Castiel was powerful, yes, but as an air elemental his powers tended to work on a larger, more diffuse scale. He could generate and create another lighting storm if he wanted, just as Raphael had, but he was unable to strike down one of Dean’s enemies without also injuring Dean. Even his voice was deafening to humans.

What he really needed was a way to focus his powers down to a human scale of working. And the easiest way Castiel could think of to do that was to take a human body. It would be good to get a human’s perspective of the world too, because Castiel wasn’t even sure they saw the same range of colours, so who knows what mistakes he might make trying to help Dean simply from not understanding humans.

“I need to gain a body. It is the best way,” Castiel confirmed, nodding to the Mage. He shrugged, before heading over to one corner of the room. Looking more closely, Castiel noticed there was a desk hidden beneath the books. Marv rustled through the desk, collecting some blank paper and a beautiful ink pen, before wandering over to another shelf. There, he drew out a folder, before he resettled in his chair.

Quickly flicking through the folder, he began, “Physical transformations are difficult to pull off, especially for non-physical beings. This will need to be a powerful spell, but luckily for you, The Transformation is a very common trope. It should work very well, but first, a few questions.”

“Questions? What for?”

“To set the tone of the Story, of course! The closer I can write to the current situation, the more successful the spell will be, so the more details the better! It might get a little personal. For starters, I’ll need the name of this important person, and the nature of your relationship with them. I’ll also need to know what your objective is once you find them, and what you would consider the best and worst conclusions to this whole situation.”

Castiel took a moment to find his voice. They were rather private questions. Marv sat there, his hand hovering above one page, with a polite smile.

“Dean. Dean Winchester,” Castiel admitted after nearly a minute of silence. “And there is no relationship between him and I. He is a good man, and I cannot stand idly by while he remains in danger. My objective is to act as his guide and guardian, until such time as he has no need for one. The best resolution for me would be for Dean to remain safe and happy, and the worst—“ Castiel paused to collect himself. “The worst would be for Dean to be lost from the world, either mentally, spiritually or physically. He enriches the lives of everyone around him. On the day that he dies, the world would weep.”

Castiel shifted in embarrassment as he concluded his speech, but he could not deny any of what he had said as true. And if Marv was right, these details would help to create a stronger spell.

Marv nodded, before flicking through the folder again. He quickly found the page he was looking for, and traced a symbol in the air with his pen. The words from within the folder copied themselves onto the blank paper, with obvious spaces left. Marv rapidly filled in the gaps with what Castiel could only imagine were the details he’d provided.

It was times like this he really wished he knew how to read. Air elementals just didn’t require literacy. They had no way to create written works, so it was rare that any spent the time to learn.

“Nearly done, now. I chose the romantic archetype, if that’s alright with you, as it’s a little more flexible. You will take the role of the Pining Lover, wishing from afar to be with the Beloved, even transfiguring yourself to be of assistance to them. Now, you won’t have to worry about any of those nuisance time constraints like full moons or the Strike of Midnight, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to access your full magical capacity while in human form.”

“I need to be able to help—“

“Yes, yes, I know, don’t worry. You’ll still be far more powerful than a human,” Marv said, rolling his eyes. “And because I’m feeling generous, I’ve even written in a clause to make your transformation permanent, free of charge.”

Castiel was surprised, but the idea was intriguing. A chance to live as a human alongside Dean—

“Wait, for free? You’re charging me for this?”

Marv looked startled. “Well, of course I am! You think all this magic is easy to pull off? But don’t worry about that, I’m very reasonable. I’m sure we’ll come to a satisfying agreement.”

“…what do you mean by permanent? I’d be stuck as a human?” Castiel asked, ignoring his flicker of doubt.

“Yes and no,” Marv said, finishing his writing. He placed the pen aside before moving to stand before Castiel. “You’ll have full control of the transformation yourself, and be able to switch between your true form and this human form. Full access to your abilities either way. You could live with your Beloved as a human, and then as a spirit when he passes. The Story is done, by the way. All I need is your agreement and we can get to work.”

“What do I do to make it permanent?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Your ignorance is a crucial part of the narrative, but it will be something to do with Dean – an event, a shared experience, a confession, that sort of thing. So, do we have a deal?”

Castiel was feeling even more unsure about this deal now. There was something suspicious about how quickly Marv had changed his mind about helping, and about how little detail he was giving about the Story about to be woven around Castiel. And he couldn’t shake the suspicion that Marv was taking advantage of his illiteracy.

But in the back of his thoughts, Castiel could still sense how much time had passed, how alone Dean still was. He needed to do this. He needed to help Dean.

“What is your price?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing to extravagant. You’ll just owe me a certain number of favours, to be repaid sometime in the future.”

Now that was definitely suspicious. Unnamed favours? That was a terrible price to pay.

But what choice did Castiel have?

“Alright. I agree. Weave your story.” At Castiel’s words, there was a flash of light, and a new word appeared at the bottom of the paper. His name.

Marv was beaming. “Excellent doing business with you! Now, let’s begin.”

Marv took a deep breath, before he began reading aloud.

_ “Once, within the richly magical mountains of the unaffiliated wilderness, there was an air elemental by the name of Castiel. He was a powerful immortal, but his heart grew weary, for there is no pleasure in the ever unchanging wilds. One day, a beautiful human caught his interest. This human, named Dean Winchester among his peers, was loved by many, and Castiel grew to love him too. He longed to be with the human, but the very nature of their beings would not allow it. _

_ “So it was that one day, Castiel wrapped himself in the guise of a human and approached Dean during a time of great distress. His assistance endeared the air spirit to the human, and they became companions. And all across the land, the people heard of the depths of their affections for each other, and sighed in wonder.” _

Castiel gasped as the magic took effect, twisting through his entire being. It hurt, there was no doubt of that, but very quickly he felt his senses become muffled, and that hurt fell away.

Everything flickered for a moment, and Castiel quickly became aware of a new pain, a slowly growing ache that was spreading from his centre, a desperate craving for something—

He gasped, taking in great lungfuls of air, and collapsed to the floor.

The floor. It felt solid beneath him, rough beneath his hands. Castiel blinked up to the ceiling in a daze.

Suddenly, Marv was standing above him, and the man looked far larger now.

“First time breathing is always a little odd, isn’t it,” Marv said. “Here, let me help you up.”

He reached a hand down, and Castiel stared at it in bewilderment. Breathing?

He was—

He had a human body!

Castiel tried to force his body upright, but it didn’t seem to be cooperating. After a second, Marv sighed to himself, and stepped closer, slinging an arm over Castiel’s shoulders to help lift him to his feet.

It took a few minutes to get his bearings, but soon Castiel was standing without support.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, glancing down his naked body. “This is very good work.”

Strangely, Marv’s face fell. Castiel was instantly on guard.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to weave you a new voice!”

“A new voice?”

“Yes, you still have the voice of an air elemental. Humans won’t be able to hear you speak.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Not right now, I’m afraid. Not until the story is complete. It is part of your character now.”

It was disheartening, but not that much of a problem, Castiel decided. He would still be able to do the most important things to help Dean, even without the ability to speak. Already, moving this body was feeling natural, and he could still sense the magics in the air around him.

Curious, he began to twist the air around his fingers, quickly forming it into a small solid shape. His magic was much more focused through this body.

“I’ll be on my way now, then. Thank you for your assistance.”

Marv nodded.

“I’ll send a sprite when I need you for a favour.”

Castiel let himself out of the cottage, wandering beyond the confines of the wards. His bare feet were beginning to hurt from the rough ground, but Castiel ignored the feeling. The sky was already growing pale, and Dean would soon be awakening. He needed to return.

Gathering the air around him, Castiel began to lift off the ground, and quickly he was flying again, as naturally as ever.


	3. Electrostatic

_ “The interesting thing about humanity is that they were formed from all four elements, Light and Dark. They can choose to follow whatever they like, to use whatever magic they want. They’re adaptable. Resilient. That is why the Mother of Monsters searches for unwary humans, wandering the wilds. They are the perfect clay to form her children from. Remember, even if it still wears a human face, the only things that return from the Wilderness are monsters.” _

The Unholy Wilderness

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

Dean jolted awake.

The first thing he noticed was the brightness of the sky. He had slept in; it looked nearly mid-morning already. Tense, and shivering slightly in the brisk morning, Dean shifted to get up, surveying what he could of his surroundings.

Trees. Trees everywhere. Some variety of conifer, interspersed with a more leafy tree of some kind. Shit. Sam had always been better at botany than he was. The ground was sloping slightly, and medium sized boulders were scattered across the grass. There was nothing even remotely resembling a footpath or a road, but Dean supposed that was obvious.

More worrying than the lack of any path was the lack of any scrap. He couldn’t spot anything that looked like it was a part of Impala’s broken frame, or any of his supplies, or any of the deliveries he was meant to be carrying. He was stranded in the wilderness, without any supplies at all. 

After searching for a good two hours among what was left of the paperwing, Dean managed to find Impala herself, the anchorstone that all of her magic flowed from. It was a perfectly spherical stone roughly the size of his fist, and nearly glowing with magic. Dean sighed in relief.

“Hello, Baby. You won’t believe how happy I am to see you.”

The stone’s magic pulsed in something like a greeting, as the semi-sentient artefact recognised Dean’s touch. This was Impala, the real Impala. The rest was all lifeless paper and wood and steel.

Impala hadn’t always been a paperwing. When Dean was still young and travelling with his dad and Sam, Impala had powered the heart of a land-crawler. The vehicle had been vaguely spider-shaped, with a large seating area suspended by long, jointed legs, perfect for sprinting across the uneven terrain of the Wilderness without disturbing the people it carried too much. It had been necessary back then. Their dad was so suspicious of society that they had rarely spent longer in town than it took to buy whatever resources they needed. They had lived out of Impala, ready at any moment to escape hostile notice.

The only problem was, not all anchorstones were built for general use, and Impala certainly wasn’t. She had always been intended for air magic. So Dean had done his research, learning from Bobby how to craft mechanical things with magic, and on the day that he had been given Impala he had begun to construct a new frame for her.

She was perfect as the heart of a paperwing.

Unfortunately, after finding Impala Dean didn’t have much more luck salvaging the wreckage. Of the few packages he found, most of them had been irreparably damaged by either the fall or the rain. The only good thing about it was that he’d been on a sort of holiday at Benny’s, so he only had a few deliveries and none of them urgent or expensive.

By midday, he had lingered as long as he could allow. The wilderness was a dangerous place for humans to stay unprepared, and Dean didn’t have much more than the clothes on his back, a spare blanket, and a day’s worth of food. He had to start back to civilisation.

First things first, he had to find out where he was. If he remembered correctly, he was currently somewhere to the east of the mountains. Their peaks were nearby, visible over the hill, but apart from that Dean had no clue about his exact location. Most of the time he saw the landscape from above, which meant nothing looked even remotely familiar anymore.

Dean had to find a higher viewpoint, somewhere without trees. Quickly, he chose a hill, and made his way to the top. It didn’t really help make anything clearer. The trees were everywhere, great thick trunked things that had grown for hundreds of years without human interference.

With a sign, Dean began to climb.

By the time he reached the top of the tree, Dean was beginning to feel hungry again. It was past noon, and he hadn’t done anything at all.

The view from the top of the tree was a little better, though still obscured by trees. At the very least he could pick out the familiar peak of Mount Winmau on the horizon. Which meant he wasn’t too far off course, really. Kania was in the foothills of Mount Winmau.

If he still had his paperwing, he could have made it there in less than an hour, but hiking, it would take nearly a week to cross the rough terrain. Dean grimaced. He’d also have to cross the Mistral River, which was currently swollen with spring floodwaters, running quick between high cliffs.

For the first time in a long while, Dean cursed the lack of adequate infrastructure in the wilderness.

There was nothing stopping him from heading straight for Lebanon, though. Out on the plains, it would involve far fewer hills and cliffs, and once he escaped the mountain forests it would be easy enough to find his way across the plains. By air, it was about six hours direct flight. On foot, he could probably reach the boundary of the Light lands within four days, then he could catch a train from the closest village which, if he was judging his position correctly, would probably be Rosewood.

Dean took a scrap of paper from inside his jacket, marking down the position of Mount Winmau, before casting a quick charm to identify North, which he marked down too. Together, these should help him keep track of his way, even down on the ground.

Dean climbed down from the tree and set off.

It wasn’t much later that Dean became aware he was being followed. It was bound to happen, being in the wilderness, but was still frustrating. So far out, they were either bandits or monsters, and bruised and tired, Dean didn’t have the time or energy to deal with either. He tried to speed up without giving anything away, looking around for anywhere he could set up good defences.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he found the stream. It was small enough to cross, but fast enough to make a problem for anything undead that was following him. The water would also help reinforce his own protections, and could be used as a weapon if he needed it to.

Dean crossed as quickly as he was able, before setting down his bags. He readied his machete, and the pistol he’d managed to salvage from the wreckage, and then went about drawing up the points of another diamond of protection.

It wasn’t much later that his assailants emerged from the trees, and Dean swore.

Hellhounds.

Semi-invisible monsters aligned with fire, hellhounds were perfect pursuit predators that enjoyed hunting in packs. Once they got someone’s scent, they would follow it until they either died or caught them. The only things they were weak to were water, salt, and enchanted weaponry.

Two out of three wasn’t too bad in Dean’s favour.

At first all the hounds did was growl and snap, none of them eager to take the first step into the river, even if they could get closer to Dean. Dean tried to discourage them, calling up water to splash at any brave enough to stand close to the water.

But it wasn’t long before their leader grew bolder. She snarled, leaping into the stream. Around her, the water began to steam, and Dean swore as she made her way across. She was an enormous beast, it wouldn’t be long before she took down the walls of his protective wards, especially now that the other hounds were emboldened enough to swim too.

Taking the initiative, Dean swung forwards, aiming for her head as she climbed out of the water. She flinched, mostly avoiding the blow, before leaping at the ward.

Dean gave a short, manly growl, that wasn’t a yelp at all, falling back away from the ward, but luckily it held.

Fuck this. It wasn’t like the machete would even do anything to their tough hides. The pistol would be useless too, it only had regular bullets.

Dean sat down in the centre of his diamond of protection, placing his weapons aside. This was the time for magic.

Slowly, Dean began to chant out the old Dark words, feeling them flood through his limbs with a familiar tingle. He felt the energy gathering in his palms, ready to be directed against the hounds. They were all on this side of the river now. Growling and snapping and testing the strength of his wards.

Dean examined each hound, trying to choose his target. Not the leader, she would be too strong for this. The smallest one was quick, but too weak to be useful. Dean settled on the one with a broken ear, only a little smaller than the leader.

As Dean spoke the last word, he sent his magic outwards through the wards, spiralling around his target. The hound yelped, jumping back, but the spell had already begun to take hold. After a few more seconds, the hound stood, still snarling, but this time there was something different. He was growling at his packmates.

With a loud thudding noise, the corrupted hound slammed into his leader, knocking her sideways and nearly into the water. The other hounds paused their attacks in shock and confusion.

The leader recovered quickly, righting herself and launching back at the other hound. They began to fight.

It was quick, brutal, and would only keep them occupied for so long. Dean had to think of something else to take care of the rest of them.

Water magic could work, but Dean had never been all that good at it, and the lower level spells weren’t particularly useful in an offensive sense. Fire magic was out of the question. They were all immune. Earth could be useful for trapping or tangling the hounds, but he knew more effective Dark spells that did essentially the same thing.

Idly Dean wished he was flying again. He was so much better at air magic, but down here on the ground it was nearly useless. Although… there was the lightning spell. He wasn’t sure how effective it would be on hellhounds, given their thick skins and resistance to fire, but it was better than nothing. Dean wasn’t aiming to kill the beasts, anyway, just scare them enough to give up the hunt until Dean could find somewhere more defensible.

Or there was the Dark spell…

With a triumphant roar, the leader of the hounds threw her challenger to the ground. He didn’t move. A second later, the hounds were back to surrounding the wards.

Dean summoned the static from the air, gathering crackling between his fingers, and sent it streaming towards the leader. The arc connected, and she squealed with pained surprise. Secondary bolts shot off, striking her packmates.

Dean used the moment to cast the Dark spell, the one of random luck. The Light equivalent was sometimes called a blessing, and usually resulted in a perfect sequence of events that led to the salvation of the “protagonist”, but the Dark version was a lot less… structured. The results were often bizarre, and modern scientists had spent decades trying to decode exactly how it worked, but Dean didn’t care as long as it was effective.

He sent up his prayer.

And then out of nowhere, a naked man appeared. Dropped down from the sky, more like.

Dean felt his jaw fall open.

Before his eyes, the unarmed man began to attack the hellhounds using powerful air magic. One hound was sent hurtling back nearly forty feet before it hit a tree and fell to the ground. Another leapt to attack the strange man, only to be impaled on an invisible blade of some sort – tightly compressed air, Dean guessed.

The man, his face drawn back in a silent snarl, sent another bolt of lightning straight into the chest of the leader hound, who yowled, before turning tail and running. Her packmates followed, and very quickly, Dean was left alone with the strange man.

The man – still buck naked, of all things – turned to face Dean with a smile.

Dark magic. Utterly bizarre stuff.

* * *

 

By the time Castiel returned to Dean’s crash site, it was already growing late in the day. It had taken a frustratingly long time during that morning to get the hang of using his magic again, now that he was in a human body. Some techniques that had once been second nature to him were now difficult to perform, requiring a deep level of concentration to pull off. Other spells suddenly worked on a much smaller scale, rendering them useless for things like flight.

Although, pleasingly, he was now able to craft blades from the wind. And lightning still worked in the same manner, thought his first attempt to use it had scorched his fingertips.

Balthazar was nowhere to be seen either, so hopefully he had followed Dean wherever Dean had gone. Castiel leapt into the air, flying above the trees in the direction of Kania. It was the closest town, and Dean’s most likely destination.

Out of nowhere, a pigeon flew right in front of Castiel’s face. Startled at the sudden appearance, he darted to one side, which had the unfortunate consequence of sending him slamming into the trunk of a tall tree.

Spinning through the air and dazed, it took all of Castiel’s concentration just to stay afloat. Why were human bodies so easily injured and disorientated? Alighting in another tree, Castiel waited for his head to stop spinning.

It took a moment to process what he was seeing. A few hundred yards away, a small stream cut through the valley, and on the far side, Dean was fighting from within a diamond of protection. Nearly a dozen hellhounds had him surrounded, and they appeared to be shaking off the effects of a lightning curse.

Castiel leapt into action, landing in the middle of the fight, and immediately sending one hound flying into a tree.

The fight didn’t last long. The hounds were already feeling hurt and sore from Dean’s own attacks, and now, as lesser elementals, they were intimidated by Castiel’s obvious superiority. They ran away, to hide in the undergrowth.

Castiel for his part was very pleased his combat prowess translated into human limbs. He turned to Dean with a smile.

Dean was watching him, eyes wide and cautious.

“Hey, uh, thanks for the assist. What’s your name?”

“I am called Castiel,” he responded.

Dean frowned, shifting on the spot.

“Uh, you don’t happen to speak Common, do you? I don’t have any talent for Auran.”

Ah, that was right. He had no human voice.

Castiel grimaced, gesturing to his throat before shaking his head. Dean smiled, and began making a hand gestures following a specific pattern. Apparently it was some form of communication, and Castiel watched carefully, but he couldn’t make any sense of the gestures. He shrugged in frustration.

“Guess you don’t know signing either,” Dean sighed. “How about – I’ve got a pen and paper, can you write?”

Castiel nodded, and Dean’s face lit up. He quickly retrieved the items and pushed them through the wards into Castiel’s hands. Cas wrote quickly, stating his name and his purpose in saving Dean in all three of the runic languages he knew. But when he turned the paper to show Dean, Dean’s face fell.

“I don’t know how to read that,” Dean explained. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what languages you’re writing in.”

Of course he didn’t. Were they doomed to a future of poor communication?

Dean looked pensive, glancing around at the scenery and the sky. It was getting late in the day, enough so that the sun had disappeared behind the peaks. It wouldn’t be light for too much longer, and they both knew that there were worse creatures than hellhounds that haunted the wilderness at night.

“Look, uh, it’s been nice chatting—“ Castiel snorted, and Dean grinned in response, “—but I think I have to get going, yeah?” Dean went about collecting his belongings, still within the confines of the diamond of protection. Cas stood nearby, waiting.

When Dean was finished, he paused, still within the confines of the diamond.

“Uh, not trying to be rude or anything, I’m glad for your help, but why are you still here?” Dean asked. 

Cas frowned, gesturing to his mouth and throat again, before shaking his head. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Are you waiting for something?”

Cas shook his head.

“Do you want me to repay you for your help?”

He shook his head.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?”

Cas blinked. Dean sighed.

“Look, buddy, I’m glad for your help, but I don’t really have any reason to trust you, and I don’t particularly want to take down my warding while a powerful, possibly hostile air mage waits on the other side. You seem nice enough, but fighting off a few hellhounds on my behalf isn’t gonna cut it.”

Dean did have a point. Castiel frowned, trying to work out a way to prove his amiability.

“How about an Ally’s Oath?” Dean said impatiently. Castiel nodded. It was a good idea. The spell would only take if they both intended no harm to the other. He stepped forwards, placing one hand against the ward. Dean mirrored him, retrieving a ribbon from within his jacket with his other hand. “A week is fine, right?”

Castiel nodded, and gave a smile. A week would be fine. Dean could be comfortable in his presence, and Castiel could assist him.

The spell wasn’t particularly long. As Dean spoke, the ribbon began to float, and moved forwards, coiling around their hands. Castiel felt the magic take effect as the ribbon knotted itself, the oath not to harm each other by intention or negligence for the length of the week. It was interesting, watching how human magic created the oath. The words were different, for one, but that was likely to do with the differences in language. The ribbon was obviously unnecessary among elementals, considering that only earth elementals could reliably interact with physical objects. Underneath all the small differences, the spell beneath it felt the same though, that little flicker of natural energy belonging to neither Light nor Dark.

There was a flash of light, and then the spell was complete. Dean relaxed nearly instantly, and his hand dropped away.

“Awesome. Let’s go then,” Dean said, scuffing up one of the runes to dispel the wards. Dean paused, and his eyes flicked down Castiel’s body for a second, before he began looking at the sky, his cheeks a light pink. “Uh, do you have any clothing?”

Castiel stared at Dean in confusion. Clothes? He was an elemental, he didn’t need any. He shook his head.

“Do you want any?” Castiel shook his head. He wasn’t really certain about clothes. They seemed unnecessary.

“Of course you don’t,” Dean muttered with a wry smile. “Okay. Doesn’t matter. Next question, do you know the area around here?”

This, Castiel could answer. He smiled, nodding, and Dean’s face lit up. “Great! Do you know anywhere near here that could make a good camp for tonight? Somewhere defensible? I think those hellhounds will be back as soon as night falls.”

Castiel thought for a moment, considering. He didn’t know the area particularly well, and honestly his perspective was a little different than a human’s, but he did know there were several caves along the cliff side, and a series of large rocky outcrops too.

Castiel nodded, looking around to point Dean in the right direction, before frowning. Which way were the cliffs? Everything looked different from down here.

Castiel leapt into the air, catching a breeze to lift himself higher, until he was hovering far above the obscuring trees.

Ah. That way.

Returning to the ground, he pointed in the right direction for Dean’s benefit.

Dean didn’t respond immediately, his face held in an expression of confused awe.

“Uh, that way? Alright,” Dean said, and began walking up the hill in the direction Castiel had indicated. Castiel followed, careful to keep a pillow of air beneath his feet at all times. He had only tried walking a few hours ago, but his feet were already sore and painful.

Dean continued to glance at him as they were walking. They hadn’t been travelling for more than a few minutes when Dean began to speak again.

“So, you’re an air practitioner?” Dean asked, his eyes bright and curious.

Cas shrugged, before nodding. It was close enough to the truth.

“You’re a great fighter,” Dean said. “I’ve never met anyone who uses air magic so naturally.”

Castiel smiled at the compliment.

“Do you mind if I ask your species? Not to imply you seem non-human, I mean! Just that, well, you don’t tend to get random humans in the wilderness, and you have this aura of non-human-ness, and, uh, I’m sorry if that was offensive.”

Castiel began to laugh as Dean rambled. Dean didn’t notice his laughter at first, since it was as silent as Castiel’s speech, but when Dean did notice he grinned, and made to shove at Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel leapt back out of reach, still smiling.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“So? Are you non-human?”

Castiel nodded.

“I’m gonna have to list each species individually, won’t I?” Dean sighed in fake exasperation. “Okay. Vampire?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Werewolf?”

Nope.

“Rugaru?”

No.

“Wendigo?”

Castiel grimaced.

“That one was a little less likely, I’ll admit. Are you a shapeshifter?”

No.

“Djinn?”

No.

“Kitsune?”

No.

“I’m running out of species that take humanoid forms, can you give me a hint?”

Castiel thought for a second, before holding out his hand. He bent down to take a handful of dirt, and then drew the air above his palm into a vortex. The dirt began to float, spinning faster and faster in a miniature tornado. Dean leaned closer, his eyes shining with awe as he watched the vortex, before he glanced up to Castiel.

Castiel felt his breath catch. Dean was beautiful. Castiel had never seen him from so close before, he’d never seen the delicate freckles across Dean’s cheeks, or the way his eyes were composed of hundreds of threads of green and gold.

Dean blinked, staring back. The moment stretched, and a strange energy began to take over. Castiel could feel it arcing like electricity between them both, and Castiel shivered. Dean licked his lips, glancing away as he took a step back. His cheeks were lightly pink, and it only enhanced his beauty.

“Let’s keep going,” Dean said. Castiel followed as Dean began walking again. The strange energy hadn’t dispersed.

It was several long minutes before Dean spoke again.

“Are you a zephyr?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded, and Dean’s eyes went wide. “I’ve never met one of the Zephyrim before. I always thought you guys were made of wind or something like that. You must be pretty clever to make yourself a solid body like that.”

Castiel glanced at Dean with a pained expression, and Dean paused, his eyes reflecting his confusion. 

“I didn’t accidentally insult you or anything, did I?”

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. With their limited communication, it was too difficult to explain that it was the opposite; he wasn’t clever enough. The Story Mage had achieved with a few quick verses something that Castiel had struggled to learn for years, and now Castiel owed the Mage a debt he was unsure he could pay. But Dean was not to blame for Castiel’s foolishness. A few more days and Dean would be safe, and Castiel would leave Dean to live in peace.

Castiel smiled at Dean to let him know no offense was taken, and Dean visibly relaxed.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never met an elemental with a human body before. Not a real body, anyway. I’ve met a couple oreads, but their bodies were made from clay.”

They were making good time walking, even if it wasn’t nearly as fast as flying, and arrived at the caves Castiel remembered with maybe an hour left of sunlight. Dean spoke aloud for most of their journey, seemingly quite happy just to fill the silence. Castiel was happy to listen.

The cave Dean chose wasn’t particularly deep, but it was high up the hill, and in no risk of meltwater floods. There was enough room for both of them to stand, and it looked several strides wide. Dean declared it an excellent place to spend the night, with the appropriate warding.

Dean asked for Castiel’s help, at first, but it soon became apparent to the man that Castiel had no idea what he was doing. Instead, Dean had him sit nearby “keeping watch” while Dean set up the diamond of protection and the fire, and the various other wards to keep the weather out. These wards would be far more powerful than the ones he’d set up by the stream, Dean explained, now that he had the time to craft and anchor them properly. They would be more than enough to last the night, even if they were under constant attack. 

Soon, Dean sat back in satisfaction, regarding their camp.

“Alright, so all of that’s done. I’m going to set out some traps and gather some food. Want to come? Or would you prefer to stay by the camp?”

Castiel stood, stepping closer to Dean. Dean’s eyes once more flickered over his body, alighting on his genitalia before Dean looked away. Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

They spent the last light of evening setting up traps. Castiel watched closely as Dean explained what each trap was for, and how to spot the best places to set up a trap. There were small, near indiscernible markings in the undergrowth which indicated rabbits lived nearby, or that a particular kind of bird would land here. Castiel absorbed it all. Dean’s hands moved with a well-practiced competency as he set up the dead-falls and snare traps.

“I don’t do this much anymore,” Dean explained. “Most of the time, I don’t stop in the wilderness for more than a day or two, and only then if I can’t make it back to any town, so I always have food with me. But when we were younger, Dad used to take us all over the place. Sometimes, we’d go weeks without seeing another humanoid.”

They returned to the camp just as the sky was shifting from pink to pale purple. On this side of the hills, the shadows were already growing deep enough to make everything indistinct. The fire was a welcome light.

They settled in for the night. Dean offered Castiel a share of the last of his food, but Castiel declined. He had yet to feel hunger. Perhaps he never would.

“I haven’t given you my name yet, have I?” Dean murmured as he ate. Castiel blinked, before shrugging. Honestly he hadn’t noticed, having been aware of Dean’s name for years. He glanced away at the trickle of guilt he felt for that. Dean wasn’t aware that Castiel knew him.

Dean held out a hand in a human gesture Castiel recognised, a kind of hand-to-hand greeting. Castiel took his hand, letting their joined fingers sway gently.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” Dean said with a smile. “I’m an official Men of Letters courier, and – you won’t believe this, given how we met – I am an expert paperwing pilot.”

Castiel smiled, swaying their hands more. Dean took over, changing the direction of motion to give their hands a few, short shakes, before releasing Castiel’s.

Dean stared at Castiel, considering.

“You know, I could probably teach you a little signing. Then we could actually have a conversation instead of all this yes/no/maybe crap.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide, and he nodded vigorously. Dean chuckled.

“Okay. I can teach you the basics of writing in Common too, come over here and I’ll show you.”

Castiel shifted to settle beside Dean as Dean retrieved a pen and paper from inside his jacket.

“Let’s start with the alphabet, then. Just copy what I do. This is the letter A.” Dean drew a symbol onto the paper, placed the pen down, and then made a gesture with his hands.

Castiel picked up the pen, and copied the symbol carefully, before attempting the gesture.

“Not quite, more like this.” Dean repeated the gesture, and Castiel copied him until he got it perfect. They proceeded like that for a while, until Castiel could write and sign every letter of the alphabet. Dean was a patient teacher all the while.

“Do you think you could spell your name?” Dean asked.

Castiel considered it. The human sounds that made up Common were not quite the same as the ones that came to him natively, but he could adapt it. Carefully, he began to sign out his name.

“Cas-T-L?” Dean asked, and Castiel paused, considering, before he shook his head. It didn’t sound quite right, and he frowned. “Try adding some vowels, they might make it sound closer,” Dean suggested.

Castiel tried spelling out his name again. “Ca-sti-el?” Dean asked. “Is that better? The syllables sound the right length?”

Castiel smiled, and nodded.

“Castiel,” Dean repeated. “Well, I’m glad we met, Castiel.”

Dean smiled, and Castiel could do little more than gaze at him.

Of course, it was at that moment a howl echoed across the valley.

Dean flinched, turning outwards. It was fully dark now, and with the cloudy sky, their fire was the only source of light in any direction. It wouldn’t be much longer before the hellhounds tracked them down again.

“It’s a good thing I set up those perimeter wards,” Dean murmured.

For most of the night, the hounds tried to attack. They prowled just out of reach of the firelight, their eyes glittering in the dark. Occasionally one would leap forwards, trying to test the wards, which sparked but held.

Dean took a long time to sleep, even after lying down within his meagre bedding. Castiel spent the night watching, glaring at the hounds beyond the light.

The hounds didn’t give up until a little before dawn.


	4. Katabatic

_ “In the time after the defeat of the Darkness, the Light looked upon the world he had crafted and found it too quiet. So it was that the Light created the Elementals. The Phosphori served Michael of Fire. The Undini served Lucifer of Water. The Oreads served Gabriel of Earth. The Zephyrim served Raphael of Air. Together, all of the elementals served the Light, working to fix the battle-scars left in the world by the Darkness, and to make it habitable for the mortals the Light wished to create. Plants and animals grew to fill the world, and fish and birds filled the seas and skies. Many creatures, including humans, were blessed with affinity for elemental magics. For a long time, there was peace and harmonious order. And then humanity grew greedy, and set to steal the secrets of Light magic.” _

The Four Elements

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

What had happened to Balthazar? It had been more than a day since Cas had returned to Dean’s side, and Balthazar was still nowhere to be found. Cas was beginning to grow worried. 

There was no doubt in Cas’s mind that Balthazar had honoured Cas’s request, and moved to guard Dean while Castiel was away. When he had discovered Dean alone in the forest and mid-battle against a pack of hellhounds, Cas had assumed Balthazar was momentarily busy, perhaps chasing off a larger or more dangerous foe. But if that was the case, he should have long since returned. At the very least, he should have answered when Castiel called out across the sky to say that he had been waylaid somehow. 

Dean had stared with wide eyes after hearing Cas’s thunder voice. For some reason, it had made Cas feel a little smug. Auran wasn’t all breathy whispers.

Cas made sure to call out each morning, first leaping high into the air so as not to accidentally damage Dean’s hearing with the sheer volume of his calls. He threw his voice across the sky, certain that it would even be heard from across the Rocky Mountains, but all of it was to no avail. There was never any answer beyond the silence of nature. It made Cas feel agitated to think about what could have possibly disabled a powerful air spirit to that degree. He resolved to investigate the matter properly as soon as Dean was safe. 

The next few days travelling alongside Dean followed much of the same pattern as his first in Dean’s company. In the morning, Dean would check any traps he’d set up, but they never had any luck. After undoing the traps, “It’s not fair to leave them here if I’m not gonna use them,” Dean would gather a few leaves and tubers he found for them to eat. He always grimaced at the idea of eating plants as he collected them, but never complained when they were actually eating.

During the day, they would walk. Castiel still tried to hover whenever he could, but Dean encouraged him to let his feet touch the ground sometimes, to help build up calluses. Dean had even used some of his spare cloth as wraps for Castiel’s feet to help keep the thorns and pebbles out. Castiel appreciated the gesture, but he would still prefer to hover. He still refused to wear clothing, though.

Dean began teaching him words whenever he could. He would sign the word for rock, or stream, or twig, or tree, and make sure Castiel knew it well. It was fascinating to learn, and Castiel began to pick up the basics quite quickly.

Soon, he’d be able to actually talk to Dean. They might even have conversations about silly things, like magic or stories. Castiel sighed to himself in longing.

On the fourth day, they found the edges of the Light wards. Dean visibly relaxed as they passed from the wilds into the Light, and Castiel was pleased to see it. After another hour or so, they encountered a small town.

“Okay, Cas,” Dean said as they drew close. “I guess this is where we go our separate ways. Thank you for your help.”

Cas nodded. From here on, Dean would be safe. He could take some form of human transport back to Lebanon, and see his family, and begin to rebuild Impala, and Cas could be on his way back to the Siroccos, and he could seek out Balthazar, wherever he was. Although, it wasn’t always safe within the bounds of the Light wards. He was unlikely to be hunted by any monsters, but there were always other humans, thieves and murderers who would kill Dean simply to steal his luggage. Human bodies were terrifyingly fragile, after all. 

“I wish to come with you,” Cas signed instead of a goodbye. “Until you are home.”

Dean looked surprised, but he smiled. 

“You sure? Honestly, I’ll be fine from here on. You can go back to whatever you were doing before we met.”

“I want to. I swore an Ally’s Oath.”

“Well, alright. If that’s what you want,” Dean said. “Once we go there we’ll need to go by the Men of Letters office. They’ll want to register you before they let you any further into the Light wards, though. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. They’ll just want to confirm you’re an air elemental, and take down your preferred physical appearance, as well as your name.”

Castiel thought it was a little ridiculous, the whole registering thing. The Light wards were hardly a barrier against any malicious elemental, especially not an air elemental. Castiel had visited the cities there many times before. All the more reason for him to follow as Dean’s guardian. Humans had no idea how vulnerable they were, most of the time.

Cas decided he would indulge Dean’s human sensibilities, and register. If it made Dean feel more secure, he would do it.

He began to move towards the town.

“Hey, whoa, hold your horses a moment. I’m not done,” Dean said, throwing an arm in front of Castiel’s chest. Castiel stared down at it, then back at Dean, who flushed, and dropped the limb to his side. “You’re gonna have to put on something to wear.”

Castiel frowned.

“Why clothes?” Castiel signed. “Dislike clothes.”

“All you’ve tried is a scarf,” Dean scoffed. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like the idea, but it’s one of those human civilisation things. Humans wear clothes, and sometimes they get very distracted or upset when other people go around without clothes. It wouldn’t be as big a deal if this was a majority werewolf town or something, but humans are just fussy like that.”

“Fine.” Castiel signed, rolling his eyes. Dean grinned, before rummaging through his bag and retrieving a large square of fabric Castiel recognised as Dean’s blanket.

Dean stepped closer, and draped the fabric around Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel allowed it, giving Dean an exasperated look, but Dean didn’t appear happy with the result.

“You’re too tall,” Dean murmured, seemingly to himself. “This doesn’t work at all.”

Removing the blanket, Dean lowered it to curve around Castiel’s waist, his eyes carefully averted until the fabric was wrapped around him completely.

“I suppose that sort of works,” Dean said. He looped a thin piece of rope around Castiel’s waist to hold the blanket in place, before standing back to regard Castiel. Dean’s face twisted in an odd way.

“It’ll do,” Dean said.

“Done? We walk?” Castiel signed impatiently.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean agreed.

* * *

 

Dean greeted the on-duty Men of Letters officer with a smile.

“Hello, can I help you?” The officer asked.

“You certainly can, sir. I’m here to check in with HQ after an… incident,” Dean said, smiling at the blond officer. He had a dash of freckles across his nose, and pale eyes that caught the light, which Dean looked over appreciatively. Castiel was prettier, but that didn’t mean Dean couldn’t appreciate the MoL officer. He held out his hand. “My name’s Dean Winchester, by the way. MoL, courier division.”

A light blush came across the officer’s cheeks, as he returned Dean’s handshake. “Dean Winchester? As in, Dean ‘The Whirlwind’ Winchester?”

“The very same,” Dean grinned, feeling his own cheeks flush as he felt Cas’s attention on him. The old nickname probably seemed a little silly to the zephyr, considering he’d probably guided real whirlwinds across the sky. Dean was just a pilot, even if he was a very good one. “May I get your name?”

“Sergeant Seb O’Reilly, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes, it is,” Dean glanced over Sergeant Seb, noting the shy smile tugging at his mouth and the interest in his eyes. “Sergeant? You must be very talented to make rank so young.”

“I try, sir,” Sergeant Seb smiled, before his expression turned a little more withdrawn. “I will have to ask for your ID, sir, and the name of your friend. Protocol, you know how it is.”

“That I do,” Dean sighed dramatically, drawing back one sleeve to reveal his tattooed wrist. Sergeant Seb nodded in approval at the familiar aquarian star, and he reached over with a small dropper, leaving a few drops of holy water on the tattoo. The holy water rolled down Dean’s skin without leaving a mark. Next was the silver test, which Dean passed with no difficulty.

Finally, the test of Dean’s magical essence, the hardest to fake. Sergeant Seb withdrew a shallow rune-encrusted bowl, filling it with water using a short spell. Dean held his hand above the water, speaking the identity spell. His tattoo began to glow, sending small tendrils of light down into the water, which began to chime with a pleasant sound and glow.

Satisfied, Sergeant Seb gave Dean a large smile, before turning to Cas. Dean noticed as Seb’s eyes flickered over Castiel’s bare chest, before forcing himself to focus on Cas’s face. Seb was a professional. Dean smirked.

“Your name, sir?”

Dean glanced to Castiel as the elemental stepped forwards. Castiel didn’t look happy, his lips twisted into a pout and his arms crossed. Castiel didn’t attempt to talk to the officer, either by signing or speaking, staring into the upper corner of the room.

Dean frowned in confusion. Why would Cas be upset?

Dean turned back to a confused Seb with an apologetic grimace.

“This is my friend Castiel, and he was looking to be registered. I met him out in the wilds.”

“Oh!” Seb said, his eyes going wide. ”Of course. Uh, if you both wait for a moment, I can set up preliminary registration.”

“We’re in no rush,” Dean agreed amiably. “But you should know, Castiel here doesn’t speak Common, so if any of your officers know Auran that would make things much easier. Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could you point me in the direction of a phone I could use? I need to make some calls.”

Seb smiled, gesturing to one phone attached to the wall near the door. “That phone can connect to all civilian lines. If you need to access a higher clearance line, just tell me and I’ll bring you through. I’ll just go contact officer Tethys.”

With that, Seb collected some papers before walking into the next room. Dean went to the waiting area, encouraging Cas to follow. The elemental still didn’t look quite happy with the situation. Dean decided to reassure him first, and call Sammy once Castiel was in the process of being registered.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

Castiel glanced at him, then away. He didn’t answer.

“Come on, Cas, tell me. Are you nervous? Is that what this is?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Cas signed, still not looking at Dean. Dean sighed.

“Please, Cas?” Dean asked, reaching out to touch the top of Cas’s arm. “I’m your friend, right? You can tell me.”

Castiel glanced at their contact with a neutral expression, before looking at Dean. His ire seemed to have melted away.

“Is registration necessary?” Cas signed.

Dean gave a wry smile. “Well, yeah, sort of. If you don’t register you won’t be allowed any deeper into Light territory.”

Castiel frowned. “Why?”

“Well, it’s all for protecting people, really. Every Light citizen is registered, as well as their magic level and affiliation, although those bits of the records can’t be accessed by the general public. Registration also records any natural needs or abilities that are a risk to the public. Like a vampire’s bloodlust. It makes it easier for the individual to access to whatever they specifically need, or if they will be a danger to the society around them.”

“I don’t want them to know me,” Cas signed, looking away again. “But I will agree.”

Dean smiled.

A moment later, Seb walked back in.

“Castiel? We’re ready for you now. Would you come through?”

Castiel glanced to Dean, who made a little hurrying motion, before Castiel got up and followed Seb through to the next room. Dean stood with a stretch, and made his way to the phone.

The other side picked up within a few seconds.

“This is the Lebanon Men of Letters Station, Officer Harvelle here.”

“Ellen, how are you?” Dean grinned.

There was silence for a moment.

“Dean Winchester, where the hell have you been for the past week? Do you know how much extra work you’ve caused me this week? Out of nowhere, I get a call from your vampire friend Benny, saying you were gonna be an idiot and fly overnight, and then there was that storm, and you didn’t check in when you were planning to. We were about to send out a whole search party! I’ve had calls from Sam every day asking if there’d been any leads—“

Dean chuckled into the phone. “I love you too, Ellen.”

“You’re an idiot boy, gonna drive me grey one of these days,” Ellen muttered, but Dean could pick out the familiar fondness. “Where are you now? What happened?”

“I crashed, basically. Spent the rest of the week walking back to the border, and here I am. Rather uneventful. I’m calling from the Little Rosewood MoL station, by the way.”

Ellen whistled. “Wow, you are way off-course. That must have been a bad storm.”

“It was,” Dean agreed. “But now you can take me off the MIA lists.”

“How much were you carrying with you, Dean? Was anything salvageable?”

“Maybe $300 in deliveries? I only had a couple things, and most of them were insured for far more. Most of what I could find was letters, and I’ve got three little packages left. The rest was lost.”

“Damn,” Ellen muttered. “Alright. Well, I’m placing you on leave for now. Go home and see Sam. Get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said sharply, causing Ellen to chuckle. “We’ll be there by tomorrow evening, once I can find a train to Lebanon.”

“We?” Ellen asked.

“Oh, uh, just a new friend I picked up in the wilds.”

“Dean…”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, he’s one of the good guys.”

“…if you say so,” Ellen conceded. “Alright. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“See you soon,”

Ellen hung up.

Dean smiled to himself, ringing in the number for the Winchester house.

It picked up on the first ring.

“Dean? It that you?” Sam’s voice called out, somewhat frantic. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yes, it’s me. Did Ellen message you?”

“Yeah, Ash sent a telegram a second ago, and all he wrote was ‘Dean lives’.”

“Of course he did,” Dean sighed. “So… how have you been?”

“You mean apart from thinking my brother was dead?”

“No, I want to know what you picked out for my eulogy.”

“’Dean Winchester, world-class idiot’ has a certain ring to it.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk. What possessed you to fly back through a storm anyway?”

“I just wanted to be back quick, is all. It’s not every day your baby brother gets engaged.”

Dean could nearly hear Sam’s eyes roll. “So you flew through a storm?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you all the gory details later, alright? I’ll be back home tomorrow evening, I think. And I’ll be bringing a guest.”

“A guest?”

“Just someone I met out in the wilds.”

“Dean! You can’t just bring anyone you like to our home.”

“This isn’t just anyone,” Dean bristled. “His name’s Castiel, and he’s my friend.”

“Friend? Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“It is in the wilds, Dean. How do you know he’s not some monster? What do you really know about this guy?”

“Dude, how stupid do you think I am? We swore an Ally’s Oath, and he agreed to register. Besides, Cas is a good guy. He showed up out of nowhere just to help me, the least I can do is give the guy a bed for a couple nights.”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you two tomorrow then.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam—“ Dean hung up as Sam corrected him, grinning as he imagined his brother all puffed up with indignation.

Calls finished, Dean turned to wander further into the station, looking for the room where Cas was being registered. It didn’t take long to find, and Dean slipped in the open door.

Castiel was sat at a small table in the room, talking quite animatedly with another officer in Auran. The language sounded like a quiet susurrus through tree leaves to Dean, with the occasional bell-like wind-chime noise. Seb stood nearby, recording the conversation down in a notebook with a spell. He looked as flummoxed as Dean was by the elemental language.

The real point of interest in the room was the other officer, who appeared to be entirely made of snow and ice.

She paused speaking as Dean entered, staring up at him with eyes of solid ice set within carefully shaped snow that made up her face.

“Ah, you must be Dean,” she spoke in accentless Common. There was a weird quality to her voice though, wavering between crystalline resonance and a rough, crunching noise like crushed snow.

She offered her hand. “I’m Lieutenant Hael Tethys.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean answered, taking her hand. Surprisingly, the snow didn’t melt in contact with Dean’s warmer skin. His surprise must have shown, because Hael smiled.

“I’m an undine,” she explained. “It’s far easier to interact when you have a solid body, so I make it a point to keep myself frozen like this.”

“That must be a pretty difficult piece of magic to pull off,” Dean said.

“Not for me.” Lieutenant Tethys smiled, before returning to her seat across from Castiel. “I was just complimenting Castiel on the body he has here. It’s quite a piece of tidy spellwork to make a human body, especially for a being technically composed of energy rather than matter.”

Castiel said something quickly, and Hael’s eyes widened. Dean frowned, glancing between the two of them.

“I see,” Hael said. “Castiel tells me he didn’t make the body, someone else did as part of a Light Story. That’s why he cannot speak Common. It is a clause in his story he hasn’t been able to activate yet.”

“Oh!” Dean said. So that must be why Cas had gotten all weird when Dean had complimented his spellwork the other day.  He turned to stare at Castiel. Cas gave him a rueful smile, and shrugged.

After a few moments, Seb cleared his throat.

“We’ve finished with registration, by the way,” Seb said. Dean blinked, tearing his eyes away from Cas to look at Seb. The young officer seemed mildly disappointed, but he still smiled back. “You’re welcome to be on your way.”

“Thanks,” Dean answered. “Cas? Shall we go?”

Cas nodded, and stood. Seb and Hael accompanied them to the door, waving them off as they left the MoL station.

“Okay, I need to find some place that does accommodation, then something to eat,” Dean announced, glancing at Cas. “And after that, we can try and find you some new clothes.”

Once their beds for the night were sorted, Dean led the way to a small tailors. After quickly perusing their pre-made clothing, Dean picked out a few shirts, two pairs of trousers with matching suspenders, some undergarments and a jacket. Cas begrudgingly accepted every item Dean picked out, but he wasn’t glaring down at the fabric, so Dean counted it as a win. 

Cas was just as grumpy getting his clothing fitted. He stood, arms held out stiffly as the tailor bobbed around him, making minor adjustments to the shirt and trousers Dean had picked out. It was sort of adorable, and Dean couldn’t help his grin. 

By the time they were done, Cas looked just as innocuous as any other human, albeit a particularly handsome one. Dean found it hard to tear his eyes away. 

As they were leaving the tailors, Dean noticed Cas pause by a mannequin, staring at it intently. A long, pale brown coat was slung over the shoulders of the model. 

“Cas?” 

“I want that,” Cas signed after a moment, pointing to the coat. Honestly, it wasn’t to Dean’s taste, and a quick check of the price tag showed that it was a little expensive, but it was the first piece of clothing Cas had shown more than a second of interest for. Dean decided to buy it. 

“Okay, well let’s get the tailor back over, and we can get it fitted to you,” Dean said. Cas glanced to him for a moment, before he shook his head. 

“Too much time.” Stepping forwards, Cas quickly divested the model of the coat and slung it over his own shoulders. It didn’t fit all that well, hanging loose in all of the wrong places and completely drowning Cas’s figure, and Dean was struck with the urge to just strip the thing from Cas and throw it aside. 

“Are you sure? It doesn’t really fit you,” Dean added. 

“I like it,” Cas signed firmly. Well, there was no arguing with that. Dean bought Cas the coat.

* * *

 

They set out early the next day. At Dean’s request, Cas dressed himself in some of the clothes they had bought the day previous. They were mildly restricting, and clung to his body in places while they were loose in others, and the textures felt slightly irritating against his skin, but he had to admit the warmth they provided was comfortable. Shoes were just as annoying, and heavy, though he was glad to no longer feel the bare ground on his still soft skin. The thick rubber soles were a good compromise between actually walking and hovering just above the ground, as he preferred. 

Dean found his aversion to clothing amusing, for some reason. Every time he looked in Cas’s direction, or noticed the way Cas stomped in the leather boots, or caught sight of Cas picking angrily at his sleeve, Dean would begin to grin. Sometimes, he even had to turn away and smother laughter. Privately, Cas thought Dean’s amusement made the whole convention of wearing clothing worth it, even if he didn’t personally see the appeal.

Dean led the way through the small town once more, heading for a small building that sat besides the railways. Cas had seen many similar places from the air before, stations where trains would wait for short minutes as mortals poured in and out of the carriage doors, before the locomotives would make their way quickly down the iron tracks to the next settlement. This station was not nearly as busy. In fact, only four other people seemed to be waiting on the platform alongside them.

He watched them, curious, until Dean caught him staring. Apparently, outright staring made many humans uncomfortable, and some magical beings interpreted it as hostile. Cas found the very idea that eye contact could elicit discomfort bewildering, but after Dean’s reprimand, he tried his best to only stare at other people through his peripheral vision. 

Dean had never complained about Cas’s close scrutiny before, when it was just the two of them. Many times, he stared straight back, even when there was no conversation between them. Dean must understand that Castiel didn’t mean to cause discomfort, Cas mused. He was simply curious about seeing humanity up close, just as Dean was equally curious to see a zephyr with a physical body. 

The station was simple, and built of the same red brick as most of the town. Green ironwork shaped into leafy curlicues formed the frame of the roofing and the benches, and a small raised brick box contained soil and flowering plants. It all looked so different from this small perspective.

The train was just as fascinating. A huge, steel engine with chimneys pouring steam was the first thing to catch Cas’s attention. It seemed enormous, heat and kinetic energy pouring off it in every direction, so strongly Cas could feel it through the earth beneath his feet. It was difficult to believe that humans had made this monstrous thing. He actually felt a flicker of fear travel up his spine being so close to it. But Dean seemed unaffected, so Cas tried to emulate him. 

Travelling by train was not fun. While the outside world streamed by as if Cas was flying very slowly, his newly human body objected to it all. The constant vibrations made his stomach twist. The colours and the motions made his head hurt. The sound was too loud. Cas spent a great deal of the journey curled up on his seat, trying to block it all out.

Dean was sympathetic. He sat beside Cas, resting a hand on his back and whispering reassurances. After a journey that lasted far too long, Dean guided him back onto the solid, unmoving land of a new train platform, helping Cas to a bench when it turned out his knees were too wobbly to stand. 

“Never again,” Cas signed. Dean just grinned, his eyes soft. “I am zephyr, I should not want unmoving earth.”

“Believe me, I understand. I get the same way on boats,” Dean confided, rubbing Cas’s arm slowly in reassurance. Cas smiled in thanks, before glancing around the station. This one was far more busy than the one from earlier, and far larger - details that had escaped Cas’s first quick glance around the place. Like the smaller station at Little Rosewood, it was mainly made of brick and iron, though the bricks here varied in colour, arranged to form patterns within the walls. The iron of the ceiling beams flew out like great arcs and branches, meeting identical pieces from the other side of the tracks. White glass made up the ceiling, allowing a lot of the natural light from outside to filter in, illuminating the entire place. 

“What do you think?” Dean asked, noticing his perusal. 

“It is fascinating. Why so tall? I could fit inside this hall in my true form,” Cas signed, trying to absorb every detail of the place. The train had left now, leaving the tracks empty, and with it many of the people had left too. 

“I think it’s so the soot and steam don’t bother the passengers. It all floats up and out those grilles,” Dean said, pointing out the structures at either end of the ceiling. “You seem a little better. Do you think you can stand?”

Cas did without issue, and followed as Dean led them off the platform. 

There was a small group waiting just past the barriers, made up of a tall man Cas recognised as Sam Winchester, and three women that looked quite familiar too. Cas was not entirely surprised when Dean dropped his bag to the floor and sprinted over to greet Sam with a hug. He followed more slowly, collecting Dean’s bag as he approached. 

One of the women, the taller of the two with dark hair, turned to him. She had a smirk on her lips, and strangely coloured eyes. They were entirely white, even the bits that should be coloured or black. 

“Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she said, offering her hand. Cas took it after only a second’s hesitation, shaking it briefly as Dean had demonstrated. “My name’s Pamela. I’d guess yours, but honestly all I’m getting from you is colours.”

Cas nodded slowly, still a little confused, before signing, “I am Castiel. I am not, however, a drink of any kind. I am a zephyr.”

Pamela’s eyes didn’t move the same way Dean’s did whenever Cas signed. They didn’t flick over the rapidly forming symbols he made with his hands. Instead, she was still staring straight into Cas’s eyes, her mouth shifting into a grimace.

“I think you and I might have a few issues communicating, honey,” Pamela said. “Do you mind waiting a second?” She turned away before Cas finished shaking his head, linking fingers with the red-haired woman. 

“Dean’s friend appears to be mute,” Pamela said, gaining the attention of everyone else there. Suddenly, Castiel became the focus of all the attention. He shifted slightly, a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny of some of Dean’s closest friends and family.

Dean was by his side a second later, drawing him forwards and into the group.

“Everyone, this is Cas,” Dean said, signing as he spoke. Cas noticed the other dark-haired woman was staring at Dean’s hands rather more intently than the others. Perhaps she also spoke with her hands. “Cas? This is my brother Sam and his soon-to-be-better-half Eileen. They both spend the time researching Light magic. Next, we have the lovely Charlie, who just so happens to be the most talented elemental witch of our age, and you’ve already met her wife Pamela. Best psychic in the country, but unfortunately she lost her sight a couple years ago, so she won’t be able to see it when you sign anything to her.”

Oh. Cas turned to her, already in the motions of an apology when he paused, frowning. She wouldn’t be able to see that either. He glanced back to Dean in question, when Pamela spoke again.

“Don’t worry about it, sugar. As long as Charlie’s here, we’ll be able to talk,” she said, lifting her and Charlie’s joined hands. 

“Hi!” Charlie waved, grinning widely. “Charlie Bradbury, at your translation service!”

“Hello,” Cas signed. “My name is Castiel. Would you please tell Pamela I am not a drink of water?”

Charlie snorted, and at the same time Pamela began to smirk once more.

“It means find you attractive, honey,” Pamela said. 

“Drinking water is attractive?” 

“It can be.”

Cas paused again, watching the two of them. Charlie hadn’t spoken a word of translation, yet Pamela now knew what he was signing.

“Creepy, isn’t it?” said an unfamiliar voice beside him. Cas turned to see Eileen, who also smiled in greeting. “Took me a while to get used to it. Pamela’s using Charlie’s eyes to read your hands, picking up the translation straight from her thoughts. It’s a nifty little trick.”

“I understand,” Cas signed, glancing back to Charlie and Pamela. Sure enough, Charlie’s eyes were fixed on his hands. “It’s clever.”

“What are we still hanging around here for?” Dean interrupted. “I wanna see a real kitchen again.”

They all followed Dean out to the carpark, the group splitting between two vehicles. Charlie, Pamela and Eileen all took one car, explaining that they were going to stay in town. “We’ll be back in the evening, Charlie just wants to do a little shopping while we’re here,” Pamela said, rolling her eyes when Charlie began to speak enthusiastically of a new book of some kind that sounded like some sort of adventure story. Eileen joined in, signing slightly quicker than Cas could understand. Sam led Dean and Cas to a different car, placing their meagre luggage away, and smiling at Cas in a friendly manner. 

As it turned out, car travel was nearly as bad as train travel and by the time they had reached the Winchester House, all Cas really wanted to do was lie down on non-moving ground. Cas barely saw the world around him as he was led inside the wards and into the house, until Dean guided him to sprawl across a soft, pillowed bench of some kind. 

It didn’t take him too long to recover though, and Cas shifted upright, looking over to where the brothers both sat on a similar soft bench, speaking quietly. 

Sam was the first to notice.

“Hey, Cas. Feeling better?” Sam asked, signing as he spoke. His hands moved far more fluidly than Dean’s ever did, as if Sam found signing as natural as speaking aloud. Sam didn’t even seem to notice the movement.

“I don’t like human travel,” Cas responded. “It makes me feel not good.”

“Yeah, loads of people get travel-sick their first few times in cars and trains. You do get used to it after a while, though,” Sam said with a kind smile. “Dean told me you’re from the wilderness?” 

Cas nodded. “I come from the Sirocco Mountains.”

“The Siroccos?” Sam’s eyes turned bright with interest. “That’s spirit territory, right? Does that mean you’ve met elementals before?”

“Yes, of course. I am a zephyr.”

Sam’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide. Beside him, Dean looked nearly smug.

“Dean, did you not tell him? I thought you used the telephone to speak with Sam,” Cas asked.

“No, he didn’t mention it,” Sam said, turning a small glare onto his brother. It only made Dean grin. “All he said was that you were non-human, and that you helped save his ass when he did something stupid.”

“Hey!”

“You flew through some of the most dangerous airspace in the country, at night. That’s stupid,” Sam said, rolling his eyes before he turned back to Cas. “Thank you for saving him, Castiel, and for making sure he returned home safely.”

“I was glad to help,” Cas replied, smiling. 

Cas spent the next hour or so answering Sam’s many questions about life in the wilderness. Dean lounged nearby, occasionally throwing his own questions in, but it appeared he was mostly content to watch Cas speaking with his brother. However, it had been less than a week since Cas had begun to learn signing. Even with Dean’s daily and near constant lessons, Cas’s vocabulary was fairly limited and mostly centred around basic communication. Very quickly, Cas found himself struggling for the right words to express himself with. Sam picked up his difficulty, though, and switched his questions for a vocabulary lesson instead. 

Eileen, Charlie and Pamela returned not long afterwards, chatting excitedly about the new books they had purchased as they joined Sam, Dean and Cas, all settling down on the other soft chairs and benches. 

Cas felt happy. He had succeeded in his self-appointed mission of saving Dean Winchester from the wilderness. Dean was safe.

Quite suddenly, Cas found he was exhausted. How odd. As a zephyr, he required sleep so infrequently, he could sometimes go years without rest. He had assumed it would be the same while he possessed a human body, but perhaps he was wrong. Humans slept more than once a week, didn’t they?

Dean was by his side. 

“Cas? You alright?” Dean murmured to him. 

“Yes, I am simply tired,” Cas responded. “Do you have a place I could sleep?”

“Sure. Come on,” Dean said, leading him from the room after a hurried excuse. Cas waved back at everyone as they called goodnight. 

Dean eventually stopped outside one room, opening the door to wave Cas inside.

“This is one of our guest rooms, but it can be yours as long as you want to stay,” Dean explained. 

The room was simple enough, reminding Cas of the  place they had stayed the night before in Little Rosewood but larger. THere was a bed with pale coloured sheets, another pillowed chair like the ones downstairs, a desk and an empty bookshelf. Cas walked over to sit on the bed, moving to finally remove his clothing. 

Dean, who was still stood in the doorway, looked away with a blush. 

“Well, if you need anything, you come and find me or Sam, okay? I’ll leave you to it,” Dean said, quickly turning to leave. Cas grabbed his attention with a clap.

“Thank you for sharing your home with me,” Cas signed. Dean blinked, then smiled. 

“No problem! Honestly, it’s the least I could do after your help.”

They shared a smile, and then Dean was gone. Cas settled down to sleep, drawing the curtains to block out the late afternoon light. 

Cas’s duty to Dean was over. Dean was safe. So he could leave in the morning, to search for what had become of Balthazar, once he had finished resting and regaining his strength. Although, Dean might consider it rude if Cas simply left the next morning, after he had offered his home. He’d have to stay a few hours at least. Maybe he could even ask Sam for help with finding his friend. 

He would decide in the morning.


	5. Anticyclone

_ “You should be glad of how things are these days, it wasn’t so long ago that the world was torn by war. Only a few centuries ago, Lucifer of Water clashed with Michael of Fire, and tore our world asunder. Michael had been following the Grand Story as laid out by the Light, but Lucifer grew discontent. He was disgusted with the reverence afforded to humanity, seeing them as nothing more than arrogant thieves who had stolen the secrets of the Light, and he formed a rebellion of like-minded elementals. The battles were harsh and bloody, but eventually Lucifer was defeated, and banished from the lands of Light. There are whispers, even now, that he chose to join the Darkness and inflict chaos on the world, but I believe this to be nonsense. Lucifer abhorred the chaos as much as any of us.” _

The Fall of Lucifer

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

It had been two days, and Cas still hadn’t left. He wasn’t sure why. As much as he liked living near Dean and learning about how the humans lived, Balthazar was still missing. He still hadn’t answered any of Cas’s calls, and occasionally Cas would hear the distant rumbles of other Zephyrim calling his name. It was obvious something was very wrong. But every time Cas made the decision to leave and seek Balthazar out, he was plagued with anxiety for Dean. There was a good chance that whatever had waylaid Balthazar had been planning on attacking Dean next, and Cas would not leave him defenseless against something powerful enough to defeat a zephyr. 

Despite his misgivings, Castiel did attempt to leave at one point. He only got as far as Little Rosewood before panic began to overwhelm him. What if Dean wasn’t safe? What if his house was burning even now? All those years ago, Meg had managed to get into their house. She had nearly killed Sam, a sacrifice to some plan to summon Lucifer back from the deep oceans. What if she had returned? Or what if Dean had gone to town? He would be completely vulnerable to attack, too comfortable in his surroundings to protect himself. Cas had to return.

Cas only calmed when he entered the kitchen and saw Dean, safe and sound, midway through preparing some food. His heart still beating uncomfortably fast, Cas accepted Dean’s offer of a hot drink. His thoughts now clear of irrational worry - Dean was more than capable of defending himself, especially when he was so close to so many allies, and it was Dean who had defeated Meg last time  - Castiel began to wonder if perhaps he was under the influence of some spell, designed to keep him close to Dean’s side. It could even be a hidden clause that the Story Mage had woven into his Story. The Mage hadn’t exactly seemed trustworthy. 

A compromise was needed. Later that day, Castiel flew out to the edge of the extensive gardens surrounding the Winchester house, and called out to Hannah and Ezekiel. They responded quickly, and within minutes they had arrived.

“Castiel? Where are you?” Hannah asked, searching the area.

“I am here,” Castiel said, drawing their attention. He could sense their surprise.

“You cannot be Castiel,” Ezekiel said, frowning. “You’re far too small. And human.”

“Wait, does this mean you were successful in your quest?” Hannah asked, her energy swirling in excitement. “You have become human?”

“Yes, I succeeded. I found the Story Mage, and he has provided me with a body.” Quickly, Cas explained the circumstances of the Story currently providing him with human form, and his last meeting with Balthazar, along with his suspicions that the Mage may have woven more malicious elements into his Story, finishing with his latest irrational panic when he tried to leave Dean’s side.

“I knew something was wrong,” Ezekiel muttered, staring back towards the mountains. “Balthazar hasn’t visited me in more than a week. I thought perhaps he’d simply grown tired of me and moved on, but he is not one to leave a lover without telling them.”

“No, he isn’t,” Cas agreed. “I am certain something has happened to trap or waylay him.”

“I will search for him,” Ezekiel declared. “I only wonder why you didn’t call for our help sooner. We could have searched while you accompanied your human to safety.”

Something cold slid down Cas’s spine. Could he trust Ezekiel? Ezekiel was certainly powerful enough to have attacked Balthazar and won, and Balthazar wouldn’t have seen it coming due to his trust in the zephyr. What if Ezekiel was the one who had harmed him? What if Ezekiel was planning on killing Balthazar? Ezekiel could simply report that he was unable to find Balthazar, and no one would ever search for him, trusting Ezekiel to keep his word. Castiel couldn’t trust him. He had to find Balthazar himself. It was the only way to be certain. Why had he even told the others? What if Hannah was the one who was holding Balthazar captive? Better to leave it until Castiel could check, himself--

“Castiel? What’s wrong?” He glanced up at Hannah’s voice, and tried to push away his latest anxieties. They were obviously false. He had known Hannah and Ezekiel for centuries, he knew them to be trustworthy.

“It seems there was another aspect to the spell,” Cas explained with a tight smile. “Induced mistrust of anyone who wanted to help me with Balthazar, combined with a strong sense of personal obligation. I think it was meant to prevent me from sharing the details of Balthazar’s predicament. To make me think I can trust no one to help him.” He breathed in slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax once more. “It is easier to pick out the compulsions as false thoughts now that I am aware of them.”

“How horrid,” Hannah murmured, her expression drawn tight with concern. “Do not worry. We will recover him.”

Castiel nodded, forcing the unruly anxieties and doubts back into their place. At least this compulsion was weak enough to let him fight back. The one centred around Dean was far more powerful, probably because it had been woven into the very core themes of the Story itself.

With that settled, Castiel resigned himself to living with the Winchesters a little while longer.

* * *

 

After the first day lazing about the Winchester house, Dean began to feel antsy. He wasn’t like Sam; he wasn’t content just sitting around doing research. He needed to do something practical, get his hands dirty.

He needed to rebuild Impala.

Which meant he needed to go to town. He wondered if Cas wanted to join him.

Dean found Castiel and Eileen sitting together in the library. They were speaking slowly, entirely in sign. Occasionally, Cas would frown or stumble on a word, and Eileen would smile and correct him. Dean felt something warm in his chest at the sight. They’d only been home for two days, and maybe it was just Dean, but already it felt like Castiel had always been there, a part of the family. 

It was probably just Dean. He could admit to himself that he maybe had a bit of a crush on the cute zephyr. Cas was pretty, of course, but it was more than that. He was intelligent too, and a skilled warrior, and he always spoke kindly with the people around him. Some part of Dean hoped that Cas maybe felt the same, but he knew it was unlikely. Cas was just a good person, who had decided to help Dean out. Realistically, Cas would only be hanging around a few more days before he went back to the Siroccos. 

Dean wanted to make the most of whatever time they had left together, maybe show Cas some of the other delights of humanity. He seemed fascinated by the architecture of the railway stations, and pretty curious about human food too. Maybe he’d enjoy the moving pictures. The Lebanon Picture House had recently started showing talkies too, that could be fun.

“Cas, I’m going into town. Do you want to join me?” 

Cas glanced over from where he was still talking with Eileen. 

“What are you doing in town?”

“I need to check in at the MoL station and then go by the Emporium to order new parts for Impala. Afterwards, we could do a little exploring, if you like?” Dean asked, a little nervous. 

Cas smiled widely. “That sounds lovely. Are we leaving now?”

“In a few minutes.”

“Okay. I will prepare,” Cas said, standing. “It was lovely speaking with you, Eileen.”

“Anytime. You won’t forget those special signs I taught you?” Eileen asked, her lips quirked. Oddly, Cas blushed. 

“No, I will remember them.” 

Cas quickly left the room, and Dean turned to Eileen. “You haven’t been teaching him anything weird, have you?”

“Just a few useful phrases,” she replied, full-on smirking now. Dean had a suspicion he knew just what situations those phrases would be useful in. “Have fun on your date.”

Dean flushed, turning to walk from the room. It wasn’t a date, but no amount of arguing would convince her of that. 

Later that evening, when they were all sat at dinner, Cas chose to sit beside Dean, talking animatedly about the talkie they had gone to see. It had been a good one, set in the Wild West, about a small lawless town and a wandering loner who had saved them from an unscrupulous mayor. Dean had loved it, and he was glad Cas had liked it too, but really he could do without everyone staring at him and smirking.

* * *

 

Living at the Winchester house was certainly a different experience than drifting through the skies. Their house – and really, it was closer to a mansion in size – was only the sixth building Castiel had ever seen the insides of, and it was by far his favourite. The very walls here were alive with magic, decades and decades of family spells and charms woven into the very brickwork.

The rooms were large and open, and decorated with magical items and more personal items. Several paintings of all the extended family of the Winchesters were hung in the parlour. There was a large room that Dean had derisively identified as a “ballroom” during his brief tour of the house.

Castiel liked the library. Even close to illiterate as he was, he could appreciate the wealth of knowledge preserved within the walls of the library. It was also a comfortable space to rest.

Castiel’s favourite room, though, was the astronomy study. Sam told him it had been built by their great grandfather, a specialised room for observing the Heavens. When Castiel was rested enough to not need sleep, the astronomy study was an excellent place to lie back and stare at the stars.

Castiel was finding he rather enjoyed human company too. Sam was friendly, and eager to learn whatever Castiel could tell him about Zephyrim and air magic. Eileen was far more settled. She was clever, with a sharp sense of humour, and she was very kind. They often spoke for hours using only their hands.

Dean, though. Dean was amazing. Castiel knew his opinion of the human had been somewhat biased, given his inclination to think the best of Dean, but watching from afar was nothing like knowing Dean up close. There was nothing like being under Dean’s focus.

They spent many hours together every day, sometimes reading in the library, sometimes wandering the gardens. A few times, Dean accompanied Cas into the town and they would spend the day exploring, or visiting the moving pictures. Cas really loved the moving pictures.

Dean was intelligent, and witty, and a good teacher. He was always happy to explain any euphemism or idiosyncrasy of human life that left Castiel befuddled. It made Castiel feel like he was drifting  caught on warm updrafts, all giddy.

There was one thing he could say though, Balthazar had definitely been wrong. Castiel knew for certain that he had not had a crush on Dean before, because what he was feeling now was magnitudes larger.

A week after Cas and Dean had arrived, Pamela and Charlie announced that they were going to be on their way. They had already been staying with the Winchesters longer than they expected, and Pamela had a strong feeling they needed to be in Low Wiccombe. Everyone accompanied them to the train station to say their goodbyes. Both Pamela and Charlie had given Cas a tight hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Cas knew he would miss both of them.

Nearly three weeks after Castiel had begun staying with them, the new materials for Impala arrived. Dean, who had been complaining for days already at the late delivery, was ecstatic. Within hours, Dean was working, reconstructing a basic frame out of the lightweight wood.

Castiel watched from nearby as Dean worked.

After laying out all of the materials and choosing which pieces to use, Dean began the lengthy process of carving Impala’s ribs. Curious, Castiel offered his help.

Under Dean’s guidance he began to work. It was hard work, especially on his un-calloused palms, but Castiel felt driven to prove himself to Dean, and it didn’t take long for Castiel to pick up the basics. Dean would look over all of his work, pointing out flaws in the wood and showing him how to work around them.

Next came the rune-carving. Simple strings of symbols and shapes coated the entirety of each rib, combining to imbue the wood with strength and weightlessness and flexibility. It was easy enough, once Castiel knew which symbols meant what. He was rather accomplished at magic, but the written languages of magic were as foreign as human writing.

It was peaceful work. Each day, after their morning meal with Sam and Eileen, Cas would follow Dean out to the gardens and they would begin their work. Dean would talk, sharing funny anecdotes and stories about the places he had visited. Castiel couldn’t respond easily, with both hands busy, but he was content to listen. It was wonderful see Dean so caught up in happy memories. His eyes would fairly glimmer with joy as he spoke, his hand gesturing wildly with his carving knife to emphasise each point.

Dean was utterly enthralling at those times when his enthusiasm took over. Cas often found his hands to have stilled on the carvings while his heart began to race, simply from the pleasure of watching Dean speak of enjoyable things. Dean never seemed to notice Cas’s inattention to carving, or at least he never mentioned it. Whenever Cas realised he was caught up staring again, he would duck his head, feeling almost as if a warm thermal was billowing up beneath his skin.

It took nearly a week to carve every rib and coat them with runes. Dean surveyed their work with pride, clapping Cas on one shoulder.

“You did an awesome job, especially considering this is your first project,” Dean beamed at him, and he felt his heart flutter.

“You are a good teacher,” Castiel signed.

“Cas, the last rib you carved looked nearly as neat as any of mine, after only a week of practice! There is only so much teaching can do. What you have is raw natural talent, and a good instinct. Hell, I bet you’d be able to make your own paperwing in a couple months, if you pick up on the rest of it this quick,” Dean said. At Dean’s kind words, Castiel could feel that warmth beneath his skin again. It only got worse with the sudden awareness that Dean’s hand was still on his shoulder, Dean himself close and smiling like the sun. For a moment, Dean seemed caught in it too, his smile fading to a gentle expression and staring straight into Cas.

Dean blinked, looking away as he cleared his throat. With one more clap, his hand fell from Cas’s shoulder. Cas immediately missed the contact.

“Ahem. Anyway. I think we should take a break tomorrow. We both deserve it. So how about we visit the town again? It’s been a while since we went.”

Cas agreed, eager to explore the place once more. Working alongside Dean was fun, but truly Castiel was not used to remaining so static. As a zephyr, he spent most of his life in constant motion, travelling from one place to the next, or drifting slowly through the sky. It would be good to see somewhere other than the Winchester gardens.

* * *

 

They were sat on a hill overlooking Lebanon. From this distance, it was difficult to pick out the bustle and rush down in the town below, but the Light obelisk was clearly visible. Castiel could feel its magic throbbing beneath his skin, reinforcing the Light spell his body was crafted from.

“Cas?”

Castiel looked over to Dean. The man seemed quieter now, and somewhat contemplative.

“Do you believe in the Grand Story?” Dean asked, not looking in his direction. Castiel frowned. He tapped Dean’s knee to get his attention.

“I do believe in it. Why do you ask?”

“No real reason,” Dean shrugged. “Just… it’s the be all and end all of Light magic, isn’t it? The Grand Story, that contains all the little ones, and rules our lives.”

“Yes. It was written by the God of Light himself.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean scoffed. “The Grand Story, written by the God of Light, that controls all our lives.”

“Dean, the Grand Story is no myth.”

“How would you know?”

“You forget, I am an elemental. Dean, I am older than humanity. The Grand Story is very real.”

“What? Really?” Dean didn’t appear comforted by the knowledge.

“Yes. My brethren and I, we spent millennia serving the Grand Story and following its narrative.”

“Did you… have you met the God of Light?”

“No. But he was one of the beings that created me, as well as all of my brethren.”

“Oh,” Dean said, turning to gaze over the town. The sun was beginning to fall low, painting everything in a rich golden light. Castiel thought it was very beautiful, especially the way it painted Dean all ethereal.

“Wait, one of the beings? Who was the other?”

“She is known as the Goddess of Darkness.”

“What? The Darkness is your mom?”

Castiel gave Dean a quelling look, and Dean attempted to settle.

“No. She is not my mother, anymore than He is my father. They simply came together to create the elementals, akin to how you created Impala.”

“Oh. Cool,” Dean frowned. “I thought all the elementals were Light, though. That’s what they taught in school.”

Castiel stared in confusion.

“Why would we all be Light?”

“I dunno, it’s just what they told us.”

“That is grossly misrepresentative. All elementals, as every other being, are constructed of both Light and Dark. No side is stronger or more important than the other.”

Dean sat in silence for a while, apparently processing. Castiel was fine with this. It gave him the opportunity to trace Dean’s golden features with his eyes, committing Dean entirely to memory.

“Why would you believe in the Grand Story, then? If Light and Dark were equal, why would the world be dictated by the Grand Story?” Dean grumbled.

He didn’t look in Cas’s direction, and eventually Cas tapped Dean’s knee in irritation to get his attention again.

“Because, the Grand Story is only half of what makes the world. The rest is made up of Chaos.”

Dean gave a half smile.

“I always hated the idea of the Grand Story, you know. Predestination. Like we are all just characters in someone else’s story, acting out our lives for their entertainment. If it was all meant to be, then what sort of God would create so much pain?” Dean swallowed. “Mom died burning, and for what? Some narrative ideal? Character development? It drove Dad crazy, and pretty much screwed up our childhood, and according to Light philosophy, it was all simply ‘meant to be’. What kind of fatalistic bullshit is that?”

Castiel listened, enraptured, as Dean poured out his heart. Dean took a deep breath, settling himself.

“I don’t know how Sam does it,” Dean continued. “After all he’s been through, how could he still want to use Light magic? How could he want to study it?”

Dean glanced at Cas, some caution in his eyes.

“It’s Sam’s story to tell, so I won’t give any details, but a decade ago Sam nearly died because of all this Light magic story crap. He ended up woven within a half-dozen stories all centered on revenge, and it nearly killed him.”

Castiel remembered. It had been the reason that he and Meg had become estranged. She had been a loyal follower of the phosphori Azazel since long before Castiel had met her, and though she had sometimes acted in a morally grey manner, Castiel had never imagined that Azazel had such destructive and sadistic plans or that Meg would have agreed to carry them out. Their fight began when it was discovered that Azazel had been weaving non-consensual Stories around a whole heap of innocent people, including Sam Winchester, and been implicated for the deaths of several others spanning back decades. Azazel was imprisoned now, but Meg had disappeared before any judge could bring her to justice.

Truthfully, Castiel missed her. She was sardonic, with a rapier wit, and a perpetual air of smug unflappability. He had been truly hurt to learn she could do something so cruel, and horrified to learn she had nearly been responsible for the death of Sam Winchester. It had only been Dean’s intervention that saved Sam’s life. Castiel hadn’t spoken a word to Meg since the day Azazel had been arrested, and no one had seen her.

Dean sighed, apparently finished with reciting Sam’s tale. Castiel attracted his attention again.

“I was once a soldier of Light.” Castiel began. Dean’s eyes sharpened, and he turned to face Cas more fully.  “For many years, it was peaceful, but then things began to go wrong.”

“The Elementals War. You fought?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

“You know that there are four elements. The most powerful of each elements, the Supreme Beings, used to rule us as one. They all followed the doctrine of the Grand Story, and so it was that many elementals did too.”

“I think I know them. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel, right?”

“Yes. Michael ruled the Phosphori, Lucifer ruled the Undini, Raphael ruled the Zephyrim, while Gabriel ruled over the Oreads. Together, they led us in harmony. But it wasn’t to last.”

“What happened?” Dean asked.

Castiel gave a helpless smile, shaking his head.

“It was the Grand Story itself. The Story tells of a horrific civil war among the elementals, and so it became true. Strangely enough, the war was started over an argument about the interpretation of that chapter of the Grand Story. Michael thought it was a literal war, and Lucifer believed it was a metaphor. They began to fight, eventually splitting all of the Light elementals into factions, and going to war against each other.”

Dean looked wide eyed in disbelief, and Castiel couldn’t blame him.

“I am still uncertain if the supreme ones realise the irony of their choice.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Fuck, that’s twisted. That’s such an idiotic reason to fight.”

“I know. After everything, it was Michael’s forces that won, but there were many casualties, including Gabriel. Lucifer was banished from all the Light parts of the world. It shook our faith in our leaders. Almost no elementals follow Michael anymore, choosing the freedoms of the wilds over obeying the Grand Story. If no one follows it, it will have no power over our lives. There will be no more losses.”

“How about you? How do you feel about the Story?”

“I follow the middle path, now.” He glanced to Dean. “Did you know, in the later stages of the Grand Story, every version ends in an apocalypse? A huge calamity, caused by the actions of a few vital humans, that will result in a war between elementals and humanity. And once a side wins, be it human or elemental, the Darkness will put out the Sun.”

“That’s horrible!” 

Castiel nodded. “Only the bare basics are present in your Book of Light. They go into none of the detail about the destruction, and someone added a whole part about a Paradise for faithful souls. It’s all false. But it doesn’t matter anyway. The elementals will not allow things to devolve that far. We have had enough of death.”

Dean shuddered, turning back to the town. The sun had slipped lower as they spoke, painting the sky in pinks and oranges.

“See? Light magic is creepy as fuck.”

Sitting together in silence, they watched the sunset, letting the heavier topics settle out in the air between them. The shared confessions seemed to have forged a connection between them, an odd sort of intimacy.

Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes from Dean. Admiring him. Examining him. Counting each freckle he could see. The evening light painted Dean like some sort of glorious, ethereal being. Simply gazing at him set Cas’s heart beating rapidly.

Dean noticed, after a few minutes. He turned to face Cas with just the hint of a smile in his lips, and a question in his eyes.

It seemed Dean could feel the energy between them too. The draw of it. They had simply been sitting near each other on the hillside, and now Dean was close enough Castiel could pick out the flecks of gold within his eyes.

What would it be like to taste him? To simply lean forwards and take Dean’s lips? Would it be soft, brushing past each other, gently exploring? Would the energy between them snap taut and drag them in to collide? Would Dean taste of sunlight?

Cas could find out. Such a short distance away, and still they were leaning closer. At any moment they would touch.

Dean.

A screeching noise cut across the hillside. Dean and Cas sprang apart. Dean was startled enough to draw a weapon, turning to survey the surrounding trees as if the hellhounds were back with a vengeance. Castiel sighed heavily, letting himself fall back to stare at the sky, clapping his hands to draw Dean’s attention.

“It’s a cockatoo, Dean. Nothing supernatural.”

“It sounds like a bloody banshee trying to put a death curse on us,” Dean argued.

“It’s over there,” Cas added, pointing out the great white bird. Dean rolled his eyes, but put away his blade.

“Let’s go back home.”

* * *

 

Impala’s new paperwing chassis was close to complete. Her framework was done, now mostly concealed by laminated strips of paper that formed her sides. Her wings stretched out wide, still bare in places. Hundreds of runes were written across her bare, white sides, waiting to be activated by the anchorstone Dean kept nearby. 

Some evenings, Dean would spend hours sending little threads of raw magic into the semi-sentient anchorstone that formed Impala’s core. Her magic would pulse in recognition, nearly excited at the prospect of flying again. It always made Dean feel like grinning. Sometimes, he let Cas join in, charging Impala with his powerful air magic. It made Dean feel warm, knowing that even after Impala was complete and Cas had left, he would always be travelling with a little bit of Cas’s magic. And Cas always looked so honoured at being allowed to hold the anchorstone. 

Today, he was working on Impala’s tail, pressing strips of glue-soaked paper across the frame. Cas helped, writing out the runes on the dry paper before it was placed in the glue solution. It was peaceful work.

The distant rumbling of thunder caught Dean’s attention. Cas had paused his work to stare intently at the horizon. The rumble sounded again.

“Sounds like there’s a storm on the way,” Dean commented, staring in the same direction. “We might have to finish up early.”

Cas stood, drawing Dean’s attention. His eyes were wide, his expression blank, as if he was forcing himself not to get excited.

“Dean. That isn’t thunder, that’s a zephyr.”

“What? Really?” Dean felt his jaw drop.

“You remember when I spoke with a thunder-voice while we were travelling the wilderness?”

“Yeah, I guess it slipped my mind. You’re so quiet most of the time,” Dean said, apologetic. With Cas looking human all the time, sometimes it was hard to remember he was really an immortal of boundless energy. “Well, who’s calling? Are you going to answer?”

Cas nodded. “You might want to cover your ears,” he signed, flying up to land in a nearby tree. Dean did so, staring up at where Cas was perched.

Despite covering his ears, Dean was not ready for the sheer volume of Cas’s thunder-voice. The sound split the air, a booming roar that made the ground shake. It reverberated through Dean’s chest, and he grit his teeth, bracing against it until the sound dropped to a low rumbling that echoed across the hills.

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Then there was a shift in the air. A soft breeze began to pick up, growing stronger every second, until quite suddenly a gale was sweeping across the gardens. Cas lept from the tree, and the wind spiralled around him, lifting him like he was at the centre of a tornado. Dean tensed, ready to spring into action should Cas need his help, but it looked like Cas was fine. In fact, he almost looked like he was laughing.

Belatedly, Dean remembered the spare laminate papers, and he turned to find them scattered and flying through the air. He swore, moving to try and catch them.

* * *

 

Castiel lept into the air, allowing himself to be caught up in the whirlwind embrace of the zephyr, his laughter swept up in the wind.

“Balthazar! You’re safe!”

Balthazar only laughed, lifting Cas higher. After a few minutes, Balthazar released him, and Cas hovered a moment before drifting back down to the tree.

“Oh, Cassie, look at you! You’re all little and human! Your plan was successful?” Balthazar babbled in excitement, before he grew suddenly melancholy. “I’m so sorry, Cassie, I failed you. I left your Dean unprotected.”

“You were missing for over a month, and you’re worrying about Dean?”

“Of course!” Balthazar exclaimed. “You placed him in my care, and I was foolish enough to let myself be led astray.”

Castiel swallowed, feeling near tears. He pushed away the urge to leap forwards and hug his dear friend. it wouldn’t work properly anyway, now that Cas was human.

“Dean lives. I found him the next morning, and escorted him to his home,” Cas said instead, gesturing to the house visible between the trees. Down in the clearing below, Dean was walking around, picking up pieces of scattered paper. Cas smiled at him, before turning back to Balthazar. “You, however, have been missing for the last six weeks. We’ve all been worried to near exhaustion. Tell me, what happened.”

Balthazar seemed to sigh, settling to drift in the air before Cas, the last of his gusts settling down to nothing. “Well, it started not long after you left, actually. Your human had finished setting up his camp, so I stayed beside him as a sentinel through the night. And then out of nowhere, I was attacked by another zephyr.”

“What? Who?”

“I never found out. They cast a spell meant to confuse my senses,” Balthazar said, his voice laced with indignation. “The coward, they must have known I was far too powerful to be defeated without cheap tricks.”

Cas snorted. “Balthazar, you specialise in fighting using cheap tricks.” 

“Exactly! And I am a master at it!” he exclaimed. “Perhaps I would be impressed if they had done anything clever with it, but instead it was all brute force with no finesse at all. In fact, I had nearly overcome their spell when I felt wardings activate. They had constructed a Bermuda field.”

Castiel hissed in sympathy. Bermuda fields were a complex type of warding, specifically designed to trap and confuse Zephyrim. They distorted vision horribly, and made sound echo all wrong, and sent magnetics crazy. Any zephyr caught within their bounds was almost immediately grounded, unable to tell up from down, or even friend from foe. In addition to all of that, the edges of the Bermuda field were still made of regular wards, meaning the unlucky zephyr couldn’t even escape by accident.

They had been a favourite of Lucifer’s back during the Elementals War, but the last time Cas had heard of one being used was by Azazel a few decades before. 

“You were trapped there all this time?”

“Yes, but it’s the strangest thing. One day, the magic supporting the field collapsed. I had a brief look before I came here, and one of the anchoring runes was burnt away, like someone had freed me on purpose. But there was no one nearby. I flew straight here as soon as I realised how much time had passed.”

“Very strange,” Cas agreed, frowning. Obviously, Balthazar had been freed on purpose, but for what reason? Why trap him in the first place? 

Cas spent the next few minutes relating everything that had happened in Balthazar’s absence, including the weird irrational panics Cas experienced every time he considered leaving Dean. “In the end, I had to ask Ezekiel and Hannah for help to find you,” Cas finished. “I still haven’t managed to leave Dean’s proximity for more than a few hours. I don’t mind being close to Dean, of course. It’s a wonderful experience. But it is very concerning that I cannot leave.”

“You have a talent for understatement, Cassie,” Balthazar said, dryly.  “Do you think it was the Mage’s doing, or some other curse?”

“Honestly, I am unsure. I am fairly certain that it was cast by the same person responsible for trapping you, though, considering the extra anxieties they wove into the spell.”

Balthazar was silent a moment. 

“What if it was the Mage?” Balthazar said eventually. “You said yourself that he was acting in a suspicious manner, what if he was the one who trapped me?”

Castiel bit his lip. Honestly, it made sense. Balthazar was well known as Castiel’s closest friend and confident, there would be no better way to take advantage of him than to remove Balthazar as his voice of reason. 

“I just don’t see what the Mage could hope to gain from this,” Castiel said. 

“Perhaps he needs access to Dean,” Balthazar countered.

“But what for? Dean’s hardly in a position of authority among the mortals.”

“You and I both know there are more ways to be important than politically. Azazel targeted them due to their similarity to the humans described in the Grand Story.”

“Azazel was a zealot. No other elemental wants the Grand Story to continue.”

“Even apart from that, the younger Winchester - Sam, you called him? - he’s a failed sacrifice. There is a great deal of dark magic you could do with his blood—”

“The Mage will not get the chance to harm either brother,” Cas snapped. “I would sooner abandon all the trappings of humanity, even if it meant I would be forever in the Mage’s debt for reneging on a deal.”

Balthazar sighed. 

“You should be careful, is all I am saying,” Balthazar said. “Now, you mentioned Ezekiel is looking for me? I think I need to go and find him so we can have a proper  _ reunion. _ ”

“You’re incorrigible,” Castiel said with a grin. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too, Cassie, my dear. Me too.”

* * *

 

In the end, it took nearly a month to rebuilt Impala.

Dean was enjoying Cas’s company. But he was itching to be in the sky again. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to leave Cas behind.

Only last week, Dean had had an embarrassing daydream of Cas training to become a MoL officer, dressed sharply in uniform, and travelling alongside Dean around the world. They made a good team. Dean was sure if Cas joined the MoL, then he could swing it so they worked together, Cas travelling as his security officer.

But Dean was fairly certain that was the sort of future Cas didn’t want. Actually, he wasn’t particularly sure what it was Cas wanted to do, now that Impala was fixed. He had seemed content to hang around as they rebuilt her, but now that was over, Dean would be going back to work in a few days. He couldn’t really bring Cas with him, could he? And why would Cas want to travel with him anyway? Cas already had an amazing grasp on signing language and could read well enough that Dean often found Cas absorbed in a book during the evening. What more was there for Dean to share with him that Cas would even find interesting?

For that matter, what was it that had caught Cas’s interest in the first place? Dean still had no idea exactly what story Cas’s Light magic curse was following, or if this past month had been anything other than a distraction to the elemental.

There was one thing Dean knew for certain, though, and it was that any being as amazing and intelligent and powerful as Cas was far out of his league. One day, Cas would realise it too, and take off to find someone better.

The thought hurt. It really did. Castiel was something else entirely from anyone Dean had ever encountered, and Dean  counted him among his closest friends.

Cas was definitely going to leave one day.

Dean vowed to make their time together the best he was able. So he invited Cas to join him on Impala’s maiden flight. He ignored the teasing look Sam aimed at him, focusing on Cas.

Cas didn’t answer immediately, his mouth falling open in shock. Dean swallowed, trying desperately to keep his nerve while he waited on Cas’s answer.

“Dean, it would be an honour,” Cas answered after a moment. Dean nearly sighed in relief, an easy grin slipping onto his face.

“You helped me rebuild her, it’s only right you get to take the first flight,” Dean replied. Cas smiled, turning to face Impala with a look of reverence. It was all what Impala deserved.

She was a little different from before, with slightly more room in the two-person cockpit, enough to encompass even Sam’s lanky form. Her nose was sharper, her wings wider, and the eyes were shaped slightly different, but they still glowed from within with an arcane awareness.

Dean stepped forwards, taking Cas’s hand and guiding it down to rest on Impala’s head. Cas glanced at him quickly then back to Impala as her magic began to warm beneath their joined hands. Runes, previously invisible, began to light up and glow wherever they touched.

“See? She recognises you, Cas. She knows you’re one of the good guys.”

Dean watched as a delighted smile took over Cas’s face. Cas slowly moved his hand across Impala’s delicate paper carapace, her magic trailing behind his fingertips like eddying currents of light. Dean felt his heart beat faster at the sight of Cas lost in awe.

A thought occurred to him.

“Cas,” Dean began. “Have you ever flown in a paperwing before?”

Cas shook his head, still staring fondly down at Impala. Of course Castiel would never need a paperwing to fly, with air magic of his strength.

“Here,” Dean said, offering a spare pair of goggles. Cas took them eagerly, sliding them on.

They both settled into the Impala, and Dean began to call up the winds to take them aloft.

* * *

 

For a short while, there was no change. The air around them was still. 

But then, a gentle breeze began, blowing forwards past Cas’s face. It quickly grew stronger and stronger, and then abruptly it was strong enough to lift Impala into the sky. She began to sing of her happiness in flight, throwing herself further and higher while Dean guided her direction.

“You alright back there?” Dean asked, craning his head to see Cas’s hands. 

“This is fun!” Cas signed back.

Below them, the world was falling away swiftly. Castiel felt his heart soar as finally - finally! - he was high among the clouds as he was naturally supposed to be. Laughter bubbled past his throat, pure delight in flight overwhelming him. Leaning forwards, he threw his arms around Dean. 

“Thank you,” he murmured in Dean’s ear, unintentionally slipping into Auran. “This is so wonderful! Thank you so much!”

One of Dean’s hands found his, and gripped tight, as Dean flew through the sky.


	6. Thermal

_ “The Light was a storyteller, this we all know. During the time of Creation, he designed the Story of the World, and had each part recorded forever and eternity. Every aspect of demonkind, the names of every elemental, the very structures that the foundations of our world are built upon. Within the Words is contained all of existence. Can you imagine such power? Such knowledge? Whoever possessed the Words would be unstoppable, and the Dark coveted their power. She stole the Words, but the Light was clever, and he shrouded the Words so only the chosen could decipher them. Disgusted, the Darkness threw them across the world, and the Words were lost to us forever.” _

The Lost Words of Light

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

“To a successful flight!” Sam toasted. Dean cheered, knocking their glasses together. Cas watched on with his expression cast in mild confusion, but already he was turning towards Dean to explain.

“It’s a toast, a short speech to celebrate,” Dean said. Cas turned his head slightly to one side, his eyes just as squinty and confused as before.

After Impala’s short maiden flight, Dean and Cas had returned triumphant. Sam and Eileen had congratulated them, and they had all returned to the house to celebrate, just in time to see Ellen’s car drawing into the driveway. Somehow, Dean was not surprised at all to see Charlie alongside Ellen and Jo. Being married to a psychic, Charlie got sent to all sorts of places following Pamela’s hunches and visions. 

With their arrival, celebratory drinks turned into a full-on party. It was a warm, clear night, so Sam and Charlie set up little floating lights in the garden where everyone could see and appreciate Impala in her glory. 

Nearby, Dean noticed Cas sitting across from Jo and Ellen, who had challenged him to a drinking contest. Charlie was quick to claim Dean’s attention. She was always great to talk to, and Dean was excited to hear that she was planning another murder mystery dinner party after the first had been such a success. 

It was several hours later, and Dean was feeling fantastic. He noticed Cas standing near Impala, tipsy and speaking in rapid-fire signing with Eileen, their faces both serious.

“Cas!” Dean said, launching himself in to hug Cas. Cas caught him, spinning him around and Dean began to laugh. Eileen stepped back, wandering over to Sam.

“Cas! Together—together we c’n do ‘nything, you hear me?” Cas was nodding vehemently, his cheeks flushed from drink. “We—we are awesome—amazing warriors. And we do magic. And we—we built Impala, and—look at her!” Dean interrupted himself, gesturing to the glider. Cas turned to face her with that same confused stare, but he kept nodding. His hand grasped Dean’s shoulder, while the other arm windmilled for balance.

Dean turned to Cas again, and he was lost. Cas was beautiful, all frowny and serious looking as he nodded to whatever ridiculous thing Dean had told him moments ago.

Cas turned to him, turned all that laser focus on him, and Dean felt his mouth turn dry. Cas blinked, but only seemed to focus further, staring straight through to Dean’s core. He shivered, eyes dropping to Cas’s mouth.

Dean ran his thumb along Cas’s jawline until it reached the corner of his mouth.

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “May I kiss you?”

Cas licked his lips, and instead of answering he leaned forwards, brushing their lips together. Dean sighed into the kiss, pressing forwards and sliding his hand into Cas’s hair. He just needed something to hang on to, something that could ground him, because Dean already felt like he was floating from just that innocent touch.

* * *

 

Cas’s head was spinning, dizzy with some combination of alcohol and Dean’s touch. Even after imagining this moment again and again, kissing was nothing like Cas had expected. The contact felt electric, humming beneath his skin and drawing him closer and closer. Dean’s tongue swept along his lips, and Cas shivered, his mouth falling open to invite it further. His hands had found Dean’s hips at some point, and Cas grasped them tightly as the kiss deepened.

Distantly, Cas noticed the sound of cheering. He frowned, eyes fluttering open as he drew back from Dean. Dean looked a little dazed, and a little worried, and Cas smiled at him for a second in reassurance, before turning to the rest of the room.

Apparently, their kissing had drawn some notice. Everyone was grinning in their direction, and Eileen and Charlie were both applauding boisterously. Cas flushed, suddenly embarrassed, though he couldn’t work out why he should be.

“Don’t you people have things you could be doing?” Dean grumbled from beside him. Dean’s cheeks were also pink. Cas relaxed, and leaned against him, prompting Dean to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“And miss you two finally getting together? We’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks, dude,” Sam said.

“ I thought you were already dating, the way you look at each other,” Jo added.

“I was this close to starting a betting ring for when you guys would admit it to each other,” Charlie sighed. “I could have been rich.”

“You guys didn’t have to live with it,” Eileen said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re all assholes,” Dean groaned, but Cas could see he was smiling. “C’mon, Cas, let’s leave these dorks to their—their, uh, being all smug and stuff.”

Dean took his hand, and everyone began cheering again as he led Cas out of the room. Cas turned back to wave goodnight.

The air was cooler out in the corridor. Cas drifted along behind Dean. He had to actually check several times that he was still walking and not literally floating. Everything just felt soft and good, and he couldn’t take his eyes from Dean. He wanted to kiss again.

They were near Cas’s rooms when Cas stumbled. Dean caught him, of course. Dean was good at that. So strong, and caring, and perfect. Cas gazed up at him with adoration.

“You’re a bit of a light-weight, you know,” Dean said with a smile.

“I am made of air, there is no lighter weight,” Cas argued, before he leaned up and kissed Dean again, missing his lips a little. Dean’s hand found his cheek, guiding him into a proper kiss, but Cas couldn’t hold it for long before he giggled, leaning forwards to hug him. Kissing Dean was amazing. Cas would have to do this every single day.

Dean’s eyes were warm. Cas wanted to swim within them.

“I think I might love you,” Cas whispered into the air between them. Dean smiled, brushing his fingers along Cas’s cheek. Cas turned into the contact. “You’re so beautiful, sometimes I can barely think.”

“Cas, I think you’d—you should probably lie down for, uh, just a bit,” Dean said. “You keep speaking in Auran. And forgetting to sign. And you can barely keep on your feet.”

“Not true,” Cas said. “I can stand.” He shifted so he wasn’t leaning on Dean any more, and swayed on the spot a moment before leaning against the wall. “See?”

“Y’know, I don’t have a clue what you’re saying, but I think you’re trying to argue with me,” Dean grinned. Cas smiled, letting his eyes slip closed for a second. His sight was spinning.

Dean’s hands found his shoulders again, shifting to support his weight. “C’mon. Your room’s just here,” Dean said, guiding Cas in the right direction.

“See, this is why I love you. You’re so caring, Dean, so lovely.”

Dean didn’t respond.

Settled in bed, Cas already felt half asleep. Dean was above him, drawing the blankets into place. Cas grabbed at his arm, trying to draw him close. Dean allowed it, and sat on the side of the bed.

“I want to kiss you again,” Cas said, reaching for Dean. Dean didn’t seem to understand, his smile tinted with confusion, until Cas leaned up to meet him.

This time it was Dean who broke their kiss.

“You should go to sleep,” Dean whispered against his lips.

“Only if you lie beside me,” Cas whispered back.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean made to stand up. Cas let him escape this time. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Cas could wait another day, he supposed, if Dean wanted to kiss him tomorrow.

Somehow, Dean was already at the door.

“Goodnight, Cas,” Dean said.

“Goodnight,” Cas sighed. “ I love you.”

Dean smiled, but he didn’t answer.

* * *

 

Castiel woke alone.

He frowned. Of course he woke alone, he always slept alone whenever he bothered to sleep, ever since he’d moved to live within the Winchester House— 

Memories of last night returned in a flood. The flight in Impala, the party afterwards, drinking alcohol for the first time. Kissing Dean.  _ Confessing to Dean. _ Cas felt his cheeks grow pink. At least by then, he’d been talking in Auran. 

It looked like it was late morning. Cas shifted to sit up. Usually he would already be out, helping Dean with Impala by now. 

When he entered the kitchen, he found Sam sat at the table, resting his head in his hands and occasionally groaning. Eileen was sat besides him, reading a newspaper while she nursed her coffee, and completely ignoring Sam’s odd behaviour. Cas nodded to her in greeting and fetched his own drink.

“What’s wrong with Sam?” Cas asked. Eileen rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile on her lips. 

“He over-indulged yesterday,” Eileen replied. “Now he’s being a baby about it.”

Sam groaned again. Eileen patted his head,pushing an extra cup of coffee in front of him.

“So, you and Dean, then?” Eileen signed with a smirk. Cas felt his cheeks flush, but he smiled.

“What about us?” Cas asked.

“Don’t be coy, now! You two were all over each other last night. Tell me, did you like it?” Eileen asked, her eyes glittering with amusement. 

“...yes. It was nice,” Cas admitted.

“Just nice?”

“Very nice.” Cas paused, looking over one shoulder to check Dean wasn’t in the doorway. “I felt like I was floating.”

Eileen chuckled. “That does sound very nice. Not every kiss does that, you know.”

“I did wonder. Balthazar told me kissing could feel like that, but honestly I wasn’t inclined to believe him.”

“Why not?” 

“He’s a zephyr. He already floats.”

Eileen laughed aloud at that, which caused Sam to groan and bury further into his arms. Eileen tutted, giving Sam a one-armed hug and a kiss right in his mop of hair. He murmured something in response that Cas didn’t catch, before slumping over to lean more into Eileen’s space.

“So, do you think you’ll be kissing Dean again?” she signed eventually.

Cas bit his lip, looking away for a moment, before nodding. “I want to kiss him,” Cas added. “I really like him. But I am uncertain that Dean has any interest in more than a physical relationship.”

Castiel had been trying not to let his hopes grow, but it was difficult with the memory of last night replaying in his thoughts again and again. He had been among humans for long enough to know that alcohol could change their behaviours and make them act in ways they otherwise wouldn’t.

“Oh Cas, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Eileen signed with a soft smile. “Dean’s crazy about you.”

“You think so?”

At that moment, Jo and Ellen entered the kitchen followed by an energetic Charlie who was already talking a mile a minute, trying to get Jo to sign up for some sort of dinner party where everyone pretended to be detectives solving a murder. Jo was listening politely, but didn’t really seem interested in anything but making breakfast. 

Dean gave him a wobbly smile when the man entered the dining area, but he wouldn’t meet Cas’s eyes. Cas felt his heart fall, and tried to ignore the pain at the idea that Dean may not actually want him.

It was fine. It changed nothing. They were still friends, probably.

After eating, Cas decided to spend the rest of the day in the library. He had been making his way through their extensive fiction section.

Around lunchtime, Dean approached him with a cup of coffee. Cas smiled thanks, and was pleased when Dean moved to settle besides him with his own book. Yes, they were still friends.

They had been reading alongside each other for nearly an hour, and then Dean closed his book, setting it aside and drawing Cas’s attention.

“Cas? Um…. Can we talk?” Dean said nervously. His eyes flickered around the room, eventually settling on the book he’d set on the table. Cas bit his lip in amusement, taking Dean’s hand for a second. Wide eyes spun to face him.

“We can hardly talk if you’re looking away from my hands, Dean,” Cas signed. Dean blushed, but he smiled in a rueful way.

“Sorry, man. You’re right.” Dean paused, licking his lips as a nervous gesture. Cas found it difficult to draw his eyes away from Dean’s lips, but he managed it. “About last night. When we, uh, kissed?”

Cas nodded, nervous himself now. Unbidden, that little flame of hope began to burn again.

“Well, uh. You know that when humans get drunk, sometimes we act in ways that—we do stupid stuff we wouldn’t normally do?” Dean asked, unusually hesitant. Cas nodded again, his stomach roiling as he cursed himself for allowing hope to return. Obviously, Dean regretted their actions last night, whatever Eileen may think on the subject— “But sometimes, it’s stuff we really,  _ really _ wanted to do, but I wasn’t brave—I mean people! People aren’t brave enough to do it on their own, you know?”

Now Castiel was just confused. 

“Ugh. I’m not explaining this properly, just—” Dean’s hands found Cas’s shoulders, and then he leaned in, kissing the corner of Cas’s mouth. Cas felt his heart stop.

Dean pulled back after a moment, his cheeks flushed and his eyes averted. “Just, that. I wanted to do that. For ages, actually. And I get it if you don’t feel the same way, I know it was probably your first time drunk yesterday, and sometimes when you’re drunk you do stuff just to try it, so I get it, you know? But I just thought I should tell you, I— I mean, I really—uh, like you?”

Gods above, did Dean think Cas  _ didn’t _ like him? 

Cas leaned forwards, kissing Dean’s lips. He felt Dean freeze beneath his touch a moment, before he relaxed, shifting slightly to meet Cas’s kiss properly, until Cas felt breathless. 

He separated from Dean only far enough to sign, “I really like you too, Dean. And I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. I want to kiss you every day.”

Dean blinked, before he began to grin, his normal confidence restored. 

“Yeah? I think I can arrange that.”

Later, Cas and Dean walked into the dining room side by side, kiss-flushed and grinning, to much teasing by everyone present.

* * *

 

Cas woke the next day with the dawn. After his morning ablutions and a quick cup of coffee, he wandered outside to the gardens with a smile. With the clear skies and high pressure lately, he imagined Balthazar would be up and around to take advantage of the warm updrafts. 

Sure enough, as soon as Cas crested the hill behind the Winchester House, he spotted Balthazar dancing above the fields on the horizon. 

With a surge of energy, Cas lifted himself up into the air, landing near the top of a tall pine tree. 

“Balthazar!” Cas called out, revelling in the chance to speak with his true voice and be understood. His call echoed out across the land like a crack of thunder, and Balthazar twisted in his direction. Seconds later, he had arrived, standing a little taller than Castiel’s tree.

“Cassie! What brings you out this fine morning? I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks!” Balthazar grinned. 

“We saw each other yesterday,” Cas retorted.

“Yes, but you were busy with your human. You don’t have eyes for me whenever he’s around,” Balthazar said in a salacious tone. 

Cas knew he was being teased, but he still couldn’t help but grin at the mention of Dean. He felt too happy to be irritated at Balthazar’s teasing.

“Dean and I kissed,” Cas said.

Balthazar didn’t react for a second, drifting in the air, before he shrieked, “What!? Really? You actually made a move? Tell me everything!”

Cas rolled his eyes at Balthazar’s melodrama. 

“You make it sound like Dean proposed to me.”

“He might as well have, you would have said yes.”

“It was just kissing. We were both drunk, and we kissed, and then he guided me to bed--” Cas raised one hand to hold off any comment of Balthazar’s, “--to sleep. Yesterday morning, we spoke, and decided we would like to become romantic partners.“

Cas sighed, gazing back in the direction of the house with a smile.

“I - I think I love him,” Cas admitted.. 

Balthazar was silent. Cas turned to him, surprised to find Balthazar’s face drawn into a serious expression.

“Balthazar? What is it?”

“You love him?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Whatever small regard I held for Dean when I was merely an observer of his life is nothing before the wealth of affection I bear him now,” Cas explained. “Why is this surprising for you, Balthazar? You have been teasing me to that effect ever since you learned of Dean.”

Balthazar took a moment to collect his thoughts before he answered with an uncharacteristic seriousness. 

“I knew you favoured him, perhaps even lusted for him. It’s happened before, elementals favouring mortals. Gods, I’ve liked a couple in my time. I didn’t think you’d actually fall for him, though,” Balthazar explained. “Cassie, you’ve got to know that it can’t go anywhere?”

“I don’t see why not,” Cas retorted. “I’ve got a body now, and we can communicate.”

“Temporarily. What happens when you return to the air?”

“The Story Mage already thought of that. He wrote in a clause that could allow me full control over the transformation between human and zephyr.”

“You don’t think that’s suspicious!?” Balthazar exclaimed. “Everything you desire, just for some unnamed favour that the Mage hasn’t even claimed, weeks later? ”

“So what?”

“What do you mean ‘so what’? He’s clearly playing you!”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then why in the name of Light and Darkness are you going along with this crap?”

“Because, if I play this right, I can have everything I desire,” Cas responded with a flat voice. “I… Balthazar, I’m happy here. Being with Dean. Being  _ seen _ by Dean.”

Balthazar sighed, his lips pulled tight in a grimace, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.. 

“Cassie, even if you manage to activate whatever clause would make this permanent, even if the favour you owe is nothing monstrous, you’ll outlive him by millenia. This won’t end happily for you.”

Cas turned back to stare at the house. The sun had risen highly enough that Dean would likely be awake now, preparing for the day. They were going to the Lebanon Men of Letters office together, so that Dean could officially return to work as a courier. Dean had promised Cas would be able accompany him in some capacity, and Dean would show him the wonders of civilisation as they travelled the world. 

“Balthazar,” Cas said. “If you could go back and spend another day in Meg’s company, would you? Even knowing she would one day be exposed as a criminal? Even knowing your time in her company was limited? That you may never see her again?”

Balthazar didn’t answer. Cas didn’t really expect him to.

“I’ll work something out,” Cas added.

“I just worry for you, Cassie. Living as a human is unnatural for a zephyr,” Balthazar said.

Far in the distance, Cas saw Dean leaving the house and walking towards Impala’s hanger. He smiled.

“It feels natural for me.”

* * *

 

Dean stretched his arms as he exited Impala’s hangers.

With a gust of wind, Cas landed beside him. Dean grinned. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, moving forwards to take Cas’s hand. “Where’ve you been?”

“I was speaking with Balthazar,” Cas signed, smiling. 

“Yeah? How’s he?”

“Carefree. He was dancing through the morning updrafts.”

“Sounds fun,” Dean said. “Are you ready to head into town?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Dean led the way, and they took one of the cars into town, stopping outside the MoL office. Cas followed him inside. Ellen was working at the front desk today, and she smiled in greeting. 

“Hey Ellen. Do you think we could sort out a special position for Cas?”

Ellen raised one eyebrow and her mouth quirked. Dean felt himself flush.

“So that Cas can travel with me officially, I mean?”

“Sure, hun,” Ellen said. “How about a position in security? He could travel as your bodyguard.”

“That sounds awesome! Cas, what do you think?”

“I’m honoured that you trust me with your safety,” Cas signed. 

Dean’s cheeks were burning now, and he could only hope Ellen didn’t understand much signing. By her smirk, Dean guessed his hope was in vain. 

“Okay, Cas, we’ll need to take a few more details from you,” Ellen said, turning to address Cas. “If you’ll follow me? Jo!” Ellen called over one shoulder as she walked towards her office. “You have the front desk!”

Twenty minutes later, and Cas was Dean’s official security guard, complete with a new ID card, and a pendant marked with an Aquarian Star in lieu of the tattoo that a full officer would get. 

It took Dean another ten minutes to get over seeing Cas in uniform.

* * *

 

Flying with Dean was wondrous. Cas loved the perspective of it, so different to flying as a zephyr. As an air elemental, Castiel was immense, a being of pure energy , a natural part of the sky. As a human, he was at the mercies of the winds and gales, a single leaf floating at the whims of the atmosphere. 

Dean guided Impala through the air with a skill bourne of years of practice.

They made it to Waverly just a little before midday . The beautiful castle loomed above the town, at which was centred around the Light Obelisk. 

Dean landed Impala on a small airstrip near the outskirts of town. They were met by a MoL officer, who helped guide Impala into a small hanger. Afterwards, they unloaded all of the deliveries Dean was carrying, separating the ones that were for Waverly and leaving the rest in a special secure storage locker near the hanger. Cas thought it was a little pointless, considering they would be flying out again the next day, and would need to repack everything, but Dean explained it was to help discourage thievery. Most of the people who wanted to steal the deliveries would have no interest in Impala, and they would leave her be. 

The MoL officer drove them into town, stopping at the Waverly Men of Letters Station. Cas found it fascinating. He had never seen Waverly from ground level. Somehow, the throngs of people seemed a lot more lively when you were among them. There was noise, and colour and so many emotions running rampant. Light magic drifted through the air, tickling his senses. Even the interior of the MoL station was far more busy than any place Cas had ever visited. Lebanon really was a quiet place. 

Together, Cas and Dean brought the packages inside, leaving them with a friendly officer named Garth, who insisted on giving both of them hugs as greetings. The packages would later be distributed by a local delivery person.

Garth was an interesting person. Even during their brief introduction, Cas could tell he was a enthusiastic optimist, who seemed very determined to see the best of everyone around him. He even spoke of his forced conversion to lycanthropy with a surprising equanimity, stating he held no grudge against the wolf that had bitten him. 

With the packages delivered, Dean explained that they had the rest of the day free. Gartha lamented that he was unable to join them, but promised they could share a dinner the next time they were in town. Cas left the MoL station in a little bit of a daze at the attention.

“You get used to him,” Dean commented with a smile. “Garth has a heart of gold, but he can be a little overwhelming at first.”

“He is something else,” Cas signed. But he could see Dean’s point. He was glad Dean had been able to make so many good friends around the world. 

Their rooms were in a barracks just outside the castle, but they were far from threadbare. There was intricate decorations worked into the corners of the walls and ceilings, and subtle colours were woven through the stone tiles on the floor. Tapestries hung on many of the walls, detailing abstract patterns and what looked like classic stories from history. 

After dropping off their luggage in the two-bed room, Dean had suggested they go to late lunch. Cas agreed, eager to see more of the city.

Many of the streets were cobbled. Cas appreciated the appearance of it, but very quickly grew annoyed at the way the cobbles pained his feet, and he began to place air pockets beneath his boots as he walked. Dean noticed, of course, and teased him about it, but Cas ignored him, choosing instead to focus on the fascinating way the houses had been constructed. Some of them seemed to be made of dark wooden beams, with large spaces of white clay filling the gaps between. Other buildings were made of dull red bricks, and yet others were made of large pieces of sandstone. Some buildings even appeared to use straw as roofing! How so many contrasting styles could fit together and look like parts of a whole was a mystery to Cas. 

Later, after their meal, they chose to wander the Obelisk Gardens. They were a beautiful combination of natural form and manmade order, with thousands of flowering shrubs and herbs in well-tended gardens. Large lawns stretched between the flowerbeds, and a variety of trees, both local and exotic, provided shade. At some point, Dean took his hand. Cas couldn’t resist grinning at him, and leaned in to give him a kiss. 

The Light Obelisk at the centre of the gardens was certainly different from this perspective. Even in his true form, Waverly’s Obelisk was large, but now as a human it seemed colossal. The base alone was as wide as twice Dean’s height. Drawing close, Cas felt the aura of Light magic intensify. He felt more solid, more human all of a sudden, and his adoration for Dean began to cloud his mind. 

Cas frowned, shook his head. The Light magic was interfering with the Story Mage’s spell, making it temporarily stronger. Glancing at Dean, he saw the man was similarly unsettled. Of course, Dean already disliked Light magic. This couldn’t be comfortable for him. Cas had to save him. Rescue Dean. Now!

Taking a firm hold of Dean, Cas launched them both into the air, quickly flying them the distance to the start of the gardens. 

Dean wobbled as Cas set him down, blinking in confusion. Cas stared at him, their faces only inches apart. 

“Cas? What?” Dean breathed, his chest moving quickly with his rapid breathing. “Did you just…?”

Cas’s head was still spinning a little with thoughts of kissing Dean senseless, but he managed to step back from Dean instead of drawing him closer. 

“The Light magic. It was… stronger than I expected. I wanted to leave.” Already, Cas could feel his thoughts settling back into their normal patterns around Dean. He loved Dean, yes, but it didn’t normally interfere with his own critical thinking. The Obelisk must have amplified the romantic clauses of the Mage’s spell as well as the transformation. 

“A bit of an overreaction, Cas,” Dean said with a gentle smile, stepping forwards to take his hand again. Cas gave a shrug, his cheeks turning pink. 

“Come on, let’s go back into town.”

* * *

 

Cas was laying on his bed that evening when a flickering light by the window drew his attention. He sat up, glancing towards the bathroom where he could still hear Dean showering and then back to the window. 

Small flames were illuminated against the darkness of late evening, neatly framing a humanoid body about as tall as Cas’s forearm. The being had pale yellow skin that seemed to glow from within, and teeth that looked pointy even from this distance. Small hands pressed against the glass.

Cas stood, approaching the window and opening it a crack. 

“Hello, sprite,” he greeted the little fairy.

“Castiel the zephyr. I come as a messenger for the magnificent Light, the Mage of Stories. Grant me access to this dwelling.” The sprite spoke with a voice like the crackling of sap within a fire, his little flame wings in constant flickering motion behind his back.

Cas raised one eyebrow. Sprites were tricky little fae things, with vicious senses of humour, and far more intelligence than most people gave them credit for. They were rarely malevolent, but a sprite could do a lot of damage in the name of fun. Thankfully, they also had to obey the laws of fae things, and couldn’t cross over into any dwelling without explicit permission. They were also unable to speak untruths, which meant that their sworn loyalty was binding. Cas had no doubt this sprite did answer to the Story Mage, but there was no way he would invite it in. 

“State your purpose for this visit,” Cas responded. The sprite bared his teeth, but didn’t push the issue. 

“The Mage has decided how you may serve him, so I approach to deliver you an enchanted stone,” the sprite explained. From seemingly nowhere he drew out a plain, round stone just a little bigger than the size of Cas’s palm. It seemed ridiculously large in the hands of the sprite.

Cas could detect nothing dangerous about the stone, in fact if he was right, it seemed to be wrapped within a communication enchantment, similar to the stone Dean used to contact people while he was flying. Cas held out his palm.

“I will accept this enchanted stone,” Cas said. The sprite dropped the stone into his hand, and immediately darted away, disappearing into the night. Cas smiled, and shut the window. It was just like a sprite to leave the moment their task was complete.

The entire exchange had taken less than two minutes, so Cas was unsurprised to note Dean was still in the shower. Did he have enough time to contact the Story Mage? Actually, what did it matter? He could simply speak Auran, and then it wouldn’t matter if Dean overheard him or not. 

Nudging the stone with his magic, he activated it, and it began to glow in his palm. A moment later, he felt a thread of magic spiralling outwards, travelling faster than light could move to connect with the messaging stone closest to the Story Mage.

Cas waited for nearly two minutes before the Mage answered. 

“Hello?”

“Story Mage.”

“Ah, is that Castiel? I told you that you can call me Marv,” the Mage said, his voice slightly distorted by the magics of the stone. “Yes, I was wondering when I would hear from you. My sprite found you alright?”

“He did,” Cas paused, his eyes darting over to the bathroom. The water had just turned off. “Would you mind speaking in Auran, Marv? Just for this conversation.”

“Why, is there someone nearby that you don’t want to overhear our little chat?” Marv replied, still speaking in Common. “Someone human, Dean maybe, who you don’t want learning all the dirty little details of your agreement with me?”

Cas grimaced. 

“Please.”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I can accommodate you,” Marv answered after a moment, thankfully in Auran. “Now, as to the reason you’re calling…”

Dean exited the bathroom at that moment, a towel around his waist, leaving his chest bare and glistening with moisture. Cas swore he forgot how to breathe.

Dean was seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had left Cas temporarily speechless as Marv spoke through the stone. Cas couldn’t do much more than swallow as he watched Dean cross the room and rummage through their bags for a shirt. 

“See something you like?”

Cas started at the sound of Dean’s voice, his cheeks turning red as he noticed Dean’s smirk. He averted his eyes from Dean’s body, finally refocusing on the messaging stone to find that Marv had fallen silent, probably as he had heard Dean speak.

“Did you hear a word I just spoke?” Marv asked, sounding suspiciously smug. “Or were you just watching loverboy over there?”

“Just tell me what your request of me is,” Cas muttered. Almost against his will, he found his eyes trailing back to where Dean was, but unfortunately Dean had pulled on his shirt in the meantime, covering up all that bare skin. Cas felt his cheeks grow even hotter as he realised he was  _ disappointed  _ Dean had gotten dressed.

“I’ll make it simple for your love-addled brain,” Marv began. “There is a particular item that I want. A book. If you acquire it, I will consider your debt to me - well, not paid, you owe me far more than the worth of this little trinket, but it will be a start.”

It seemed simple enough as a task that Cas couldn’t help but feel suspicious. 

“What book are you talking about?” he murmured, glancing to Dean again who was watching him with curiosity. Cas signed, clumsy with one hand, that he was talking to a friend. Dean nodded, signing back to ask if Cas wanted to go to dinner in a moment. Cas smiled, and nodded. 

“The Solancii Grimoire.”

“What? That book is one of a kind!”

“Exactly! Why else do you think I want it?”

“You’re asking me to steal?”

“Come now, Castiel, it shouldn’t be that difficult. You’re already in the right city, all you need to do is get into Waverly Castle, track the book down, and take it. It isn’t even that well guarded.”

“I am not going to steal for you, Mage.”

“Are you saying you would renege on our deal, after I have done my part to help you?” Marv’s voice was suddenly a lot more serious. “You owe me, Castiel. Do you really want to go back to before, when you were merely a wisp in the air?”

Cas swallowed, hard. What the Mage was asking, it was wrong. It was definitely wrong, and Cas could nearly hear Balthazar in the back of his head, pointing out how obvious this manipulation was. Of course he would wait until Cas had grown used to living as a human, until he’d formed obvious connections with Dean. The Mage had even predicted Cas would fall for Dean! He’d written it into the very Story that let Cas be human.

He could always refuse, of course. The original deal had been to allow Cas to save Dean from the Wilderness, then to return to normal. 

But that wouldn’t work. Cas had exchanged a favour for a human form, one without a time limit placed on it. No matter whether he had left immediately after Dean had safely reached Little Rosewood or not, he would have owed the same price. 

Balthazar was right. He was a fool.

“I will have the book by the time we leave the city.”

* * *

 

Dinner was awkward, and Dean couldn’t really place why. 

Cas denied anything being wrong when Dean asked, but he felt Cas was probably just trying to be polite. There was definitely something off about him. It wasn’t the first time they had shared a meal alone together, but then again, they were dating now. That changed things a little. Maybe Cas was just nervous. Maybe Cas was feeling anxious from being around so many people. Dean knew he certainly grew agitated some days in a crowd. Maybe it was because it was their first night in a foreign city. Maybe it was because the food was nothing like he had ever served Cas before. He’d taken to living as a human so quickly, sometimes Dean forgot Cas didn’t need to eat. 

Clearly, Cas didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering him, so Dean tried to ignore the weird feeling over dinner, and tried to bring back some of that lightness from earlier by telling silly tales about some of his more ridiculous misadventures over the years.  By the time dinner was over, Cas was grinning at him and laughing in that silent way of his. Dean felt warm every time he brought a smile to Cas’s mouth. 

After dinner, they walked around the city a short while, hand in hand. With night truly fallen, Waverly had a different look to it. The buildings loomed high and dark above the well-lit streets, like canyon walls above them. Occasionally, you could spot a sprite of some element, a brightly coloured light darting from rooftop to rooftop. Windchimes and other air talismans jingled softly in the distance, making the atmosphere feel nearly mystical. They weren’t the only couple to take advantage of the gorgeous night. 

Eventually, Dean led them out into a large open area. A huge water fountain sat in the middle of the square, lit from below by what Dean recognised as permanent lighting enchantments. It was beautiful. 

Fishing in his pockets, he found a penny. 

“Here, Cas,” he said, offering the coin. Cas took it with a confused twist of his brow. “Want to make a wish?”

Cas frowned, turning to examine the penny a moment, before staring at Dean in confusion. 

“What do you mean? This coin is in no way enchanted--” he stopped signing as Dean chuckled. “What?”

“It’s not a spell, Cas, it’s just a silly human tradition. You make a wish on a coin, and throw it into a fountain, and hope it comes true,” Dean explained. 

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but it’s true anyway. And who knows? We’re in a Light city, maybe it will work!”

Cas didn’t seem convinced, but he turned back to the fountain anyway. With a serious expression, he threw the coin into the fountain. 

“Did I do that correctly?”

“Perfect,” Dean said, and then gave him a kiss.

* * *

 

In the morning, Dean had to head into the MoL Station for a short while to collect his new deliveries, and to briefly meet with one of his superiors. Cas, as a special officer, was not required to be present, so he excused himself, saying he wanted to explore the city one last time before they left. 

His Men of Letters badge gave him direct access to the Waverly Castle Library, even in the areas forbidden to the public. It took only a short time to locate the Solancii Grimoire, and the warding unravelled before his touch, now that he knew the meaning of the runes that anchored it. 

He left an empty diary in the spellbook’s place, drawing the air over it to refract the light and create the illusion that the book was still in place — a neat trick he had learned since becoming human. The wards folded back into place with ease. 

By the time Dean had finished with his tasks, Cas was ready, waiting for him on the steps outside. 

It was nearly two weeks before the theft was discovered, and by then, they were halfway across the country.  


	7. Cumulonimbus

_“Our world is lovely, is it not? But one day, as with all things, the Grand Story will come to a close. We are lucky that it will not be the end. The God of Light, in his wisdom and generosity, created an eternal Paradise to save the souls of those who follow the Light, while our world is transformed during the Grand Story’s final chapter. But beware, for only the the most devout will be saved. Make sure to live each and every day as close to the Light as possible, and reject all of the Dark, and perhaps you will be one of the chosen.”_

The Paradise that awaits us

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

 

New Alexandria was magnificent, a massive city sprawling out across the hills between the mountains and the sea. The enormous needle of the Light Obelisk was the first thing to draw attention, made even taller by the hilltop it rested on. It nearly shimmered in the late afternoon light, and the air around it seemed distorted with the power of it. Dean made sure to fly well clear of it, but it was still the biggest single structure Cas had ever seen. In his true form, he remembered, it was still more than twice his height, and the energy of it extended for hundreds of miles in every direction.

The Library caught his attention next, and Cas found himself nearly quivering in excitement. It wasn’t a single building, but a whole collection of complexes, offices and archives, making up the single greatest collection of knowledge in the country. In the tradition of Old Alexandria, every book and scrap of writing that was brought into the city was copied and transferred into the Library. Cas could barely wait to see inside it. It was just a shame they couldn’t afford to stay more than a few days.

Dean landed, and much like in Waverly, they were met by a Men of Letters officer. The deliveries for here were sorted from those destined for elsewhere, Dean chatted with the receiving officer, and then they were free to explore.

Dean was kind enough to indulge Cas and they spent the whole of the next day exploring the library, wandering the halls of magical theory and Light literature.

Reality came crashing back that evening as the Mage contacted him, commanding him to steal a book of poetry. As with the last time, Cas could not oppose him.

It soured the rest of the trip.

It didn’t end with that. With every new town Dean landed in, no matter how illustrious or obscure, Cas would receive a mission to steal yet another item. It was clear that the Mage had some way of tracking their location. No matter what wonders Dean would share with him as they travelled, there wasn’t a single locality that remained untainted by the Mage’s greed.

In Thebes, Dean took him around the temples of the lesser Gods, including four dedicated to Michael, Raphael, Lucifer, and Gabriel. They were great solemn places, filled with beautifully carved idols and intricate paintings, and Cas could hardly stop himself from breaking into laughter. It was clear the humans who had created this had no idea of the true characters of the Supreme Beings. Dean wasn’t certain exactly what Cas was finding so funny, and Cas couldn’t find the words to fully explain it, but he seemed glad that Cas was happy, all the same.

The Story Mage instructed him to steal the Horn of Gabriel. Castiel visited the Temple of Earth at midnight, and stole the horn from under the watch of three Earth priests.

New Orleans was a riot of colour and sound and culture. The air felt thick with moisture and heat, and everything seemed to be green and growing. The food was strange and spicy, and many of the inhabitants spoke a human language Cas had never encountered before, filled with ringing sounds and soft notes like some combination of Auran and Common. The Cathedral of Light exuded a strong aura of energy, similar to an obelisk, although not quite as overwhelming. It felt invigorating to be inside the great hall and left Cas feeling nearly as light-hearted as Dean’s kisses did.

Cas stole a ritual dagger with a blade made of fluorite, all carved with runes and wrapped in gold cloth. It would glow alight at the wielder’s command, even in enchanted darkness.

Teutihuacan del Norte was unlike any other city Cas had ever seen. It was the oldest city in the country, built long before Dean’s ancestors had first arrived and noticed the God’s Obelisks scattered across the land. The buildings were all stone, carved with images of fish and birds and snarling cats. Mosaic dragons curled across the walls in bright colours.

There was a long tradition of fire worship in the city, with dozens of small temples devoted to the phosphori and Michael in particular. Fire dancers dressed in animal skins and feathers performed in the city square at dusk, tumbling across the stone and throwing fireballs at each other as they told stories of ancient warriors battling monsters. Their grace and control was absolutely captivating, and Dean and Cas went to see them every night they were in the city.

When they left four days later, Cas had in his possession the Lance of Michael.

Sonora was the first Dark city Cas had visited since he became human, and it was fascinating to see how different people acted when they were not trying to live within a story. There was a lack of caution in their actions, not quite anything like recklessness but rather a lack of worry. After all, in the Dark, anything could happen.

As a zephyr, Castiel had never had any real interest in Sonora. The buildings were styled differently than many others across the country, but they were all rather plain sandstone, blending in with the surrounding desert. As a human, wandering the streets of the city, he found himself constantly amazed by the beauty of the place. Intricate geometric mosaics covered nearly every indoor surface, invisible from the sky. Delicate latticeworks made of stone kept out the heat of the sun while letting the winds cool the buildings. One of the best things was the library. It wasn’t quite as impressive as the one at New Alexandria, but the complex still spanned several buildings and was always busy with both members of the public and scholars.

Castiel stole the infamous Scarab of Khepri from within their halls.

Cas loathed it, the feeling of dread that never fully went away. The guilt that haunted his steps and his every interaction with Dean. What would Dean think? Beautiful, passionate, righteous Dean, who was so certain he could only see good in Cas? He would be disgusted to learn the truth of things, of Cas’s selfish nature, that Cas would behave in such a morally abhorrent way just to expand the time he could spend with Dean. He was well aware that the Mage was not to be trusted with the items that Cas was stealing, yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t stop now. Was an enchanted hunting horn really so much more dangerous than a book of spells? How much damage could the Mage create with a book of poetry?

Deep down, Cas knew he was only making excuses. He could feel the truth of his actions, the wrongness of them, with every single decision to continue. He should refuse. He should challenge the Mage, refuse his orders, and retain his principles. That was what Dean would expect of him. That is what _Cas_ would expect of himself! But he never did.

Cas refused to meet with Balthazar. The zephyr would see through him in an instant, and Cas couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in his eyes when he learned of Cas’s weakness. Only weeks ago, Cas had reassured him that he wouldn’t act foolishly in his love for Dean. Balthazar had even warned him against the Mage. Why couldn’t Cas have his clear sense?

Instead, he followed along letting himself be twisted up in knots, until he didn’t dare try to escape. He was a criminal, and far too deeply tangled to back down now. Cas could only hope that the Story Mage would soon declare his debt paid.

* * *

 

Dean knew he was acting like some sort of lovestruck idiot, but honestly he was too happy to care. Travelling with Cas was even better than Dean’s daydreams. Each new city offered a chance to show Cas something new, something human. Some things he loved, like libraries and talkies and the great variety of art and architecture unique to every city.

Cas didn’t much like being in overcrowded areas, but Dean got it. Even he got a little overwhelmed by the number of people in some of the larger cities. There was so much noise and movement.

Some days, when they had nowhere to be, Dean would take Cas flying. Being in the air was awesome, of course, but there was a special sort of joy in sharing flight with someone who really appreciated it. Dean would guide Impala up above the clouds, before letting her tumble across the sky in controlled falls and loops and Cas would laugh in delight. Sometimes, Cas would even climb from the plane, letting his own air magic carry him utop the winds. The first time he did it, he nearly gave Dean a heart attack, but now it was a regular thing, Cas darting around Impala like a crow bothering an eagle. Together, they would dance across the sky.

Today, they were landing in the town of Kania. It was unique in the country, as the largest of the few settlements that wasn’t built up around an Obelisk of any kind. Near the base of Mount Winmau in the Sirocco Mountains, Kania was smack-dab in the middle of unwarded wilderness. It also happened to be the closest city to the cottage Charlie shared with Pamela.

“Yeah, she lives out here in the middle of nowhere like some kind of forest witch,” Dean said, a fond smile on his lips as he climbed out of Impala. Cas was already standing nearby, having flown down to land on his own this time.

“She is a witch of four elements. That does sort of make her a forest witch,” Cas signed.

“It’s cliché,” Dean argued.

“It’s a classic!” Charlie exclaimed from behind him.

Dean swore, spinning towards her and pasting on a grin. “Charlie. Hi!”

Charlie glowered at him a moment, before she began to grin too, and she grabbed him into a hug.

“So, what brings you two to my neck of the woods?” Charlie asked, leading the way from the clearing they had landed Impala in through a thicket of trees.

“Work. Why else would I land in outback Kania, of all places?” Dean asked.

Charlie pouted, turning to Cas. “He’s always so mean to me, and do I deserve it? Nuh uh.” She paused, staring at Cas in contemplation. Dean suppressed a smile. He knew that particular look rather well. “I don’t suppose Dean’s taught you how to play chess, has he?”

Cas frowned shaking his head. Predictably, Charlie gave a feral grin, placing her arm through Cas’s. “Oh, we are going to have a wonderful evening together, my friend.”

As it turned out, while Cas didn’t know the rules of chess, he had been a master strategist during his time as a soldier. He won the second game, and every game after that, much to Dean and Pamela’s delight, while Charlie demanded rematches all night long.

* * *

 

Edoshinrin was different. Calmer, somehow. The Dark city sat at the edge of a large ocean inlet far in the north, and was surrounded by thick forests. The city itself was built under the shadow of the Obelisk, sprawling over the valleys and hills. Many of the buildings had sweeping wooden roofs unlike most anything else he had ever seen, and the rooms that Dean settled them in had sliding doors made of thin wood and laminated paper.

“You know, paperwings were invented in Edoshinrin,” Dean said as he placed their kettle onto the iron stove. “I learned almost everything I know about making them from a mechanic who used to live around here.”

“I would enjoy meeting your friend,” Cas signed. Dean gave a tight smile, something sad about his eyes.

“Unfortunately, he died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s alright,” Dean sighed, looking away. “He was happy in the end, and he died saving a life. It was how he would have wanted to go. Besides, he had moved from here to Sioux Falls ages ago.”

A face came to Cas’s mind, a gruff old man with clever hands, who had always acted kindly towards Dean and Sam whenever Cas had seen them together. Bobby Singer.

Cas felt a flicker of grief, and something like awe. Bobby’s death a few years ago had devastated Dean. They had been practically family, and Cas was touched that Dean had been willing to share even a small amount of the pain he had felt at the loss.

“Anyway. He really loved living here, learning the culture. The local magic is all Dark, of course, but they don’t really promote Chaos here, not like all the Dark cities further down the coast. There was this folk hero like 600 years ago who decided that the best way to follow the dark was to be as contrary as possible, since Light magic is all about stories and order. And since in all the stories, Dark magic is full of chaos, that meant the best way to follow the Dark in a chaotic way was to be as ordered as possible.”

Cas raised his brows. “That seems needlessly convoluted.”

“I mean, I agree with you, but apparently this guy got really popular, and suddenly it was fashionable to do things as calmly and orderly as you could, but only if it could still be linked to chaos. They developed all sorts of interesting cultural things back then. Like tea ceremonies. Seriously, before my first trip here, I had no idea you could put so much drama into making tea.”

“I really can’t imagine.”

“We’ll have to go to one next time we visit,” Dean said with a grin. “You definitely have to try at least once.”

“What else did they invent here?” Cas asked.

“Well, there were paperwings, like I said. They were first designed around then. And there is paper-folding meditation, which is pretty cool. A skilled paper-folder can make all sorts of little animals and figures. Oh, and sword dancing! I’ll have to check when the next performance is, they usually only do it for special occasions. We can come back to see it, and do all that other stuff too.”

“It sounds fascinating,” Cas said with a smile, his thoughts drifting to the future. During his last conversation with the Mage, he had told Cas that there would only be two favours left, including the task he had to fulfil in Edoshinrin. The next time he and Dean visited the city, Cas would be free to be with Dean as long as he liked, to try and discover just what it was that would make the spell permanent. Perhaps then he could risk telling Dean of his misdeeds.

In the early hours of the morning, Cas stole the Black Grimoire from a secure facility near the centre of town, before they flew south to Cawsand.

* * *

 

Dean wasn’t sure what exactly about Benny people found so offensive.

Benny was funny, intelligent and one of the best people Dean had ever met. Cas was kind, clever and quite possibly the love of Dean’s life. Logic said they should get on great. And yet the moment Cas and Benny set eyes on each other, it was like Dean was trying to heard two hissing cats.

“Is the language too technical for you to keep up with, hot wings?”

“You must have very poor perception indeed if you believe me to have wings of any variety, mortal.”

“Bringing out the big guns for little ol’ me, chère? I’m touched.”

“In the head, perhaps.”

The worst of it all was Andrea, who just sat back and watched with a smile on her lips, no matter how often Dean tried to appeal to her to intervene.

“Too hot for you? I thought your immortal constitution protected you from ‘affliction by capsaicin oils’, angel.”

“The fact that you regularly use this atrocity in your food shows a remarkably lax attitude over your ongoing wellbeing.”

“Have some iced tea, chéri.”

“I’d rather not, mon petit chou.”

It wasn’t like they had ever met each other. Where had all this immediate dislike even come from? Why were they both using signing to argue? It would be easy for Benny to just look away and pretend he couldn’t see Cas’s words.

“You have a remarkable aptitude for using a dozen words to say nothing at all.”

“Pot and kettle, my feathered friend.”

The entire evening proceeded the same way, right up until Dean and Cas were to leave. Given that Andrea was only recently back from the sea, Dean had thought it was a good idea to book a hotel room rather than using the spare room at Benny’s house. Now he was glad of it just to get Cas and Benny apart and have a moment’s peace.

Just as they were about to leave, Andrea asked for Cas’s attention, guiding him over to look at one particularly interesting piece of salvage she had found several years before. Cas followed her, as polite as he normally was, and wide-eyed with excitement over the very idea of salvage. Being a zephyr, Dean supposed Cas hadn’t ever seen much of under the sea.

“You smile so gently when you look at him, brother,” Benny murmured. Dean glanced to him to find Benny watching Cas intently.

“I guess I do,” Dean admitted. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“There were worse choices out there for you to love,” Benny shrugged.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.”

Cas was tracing his fingers over the corrosion the ocean had odd piece of junk, asking Andrea about its original purpose, and against his will Dean found his lips quirking into a smile once.

“Well, we better be getting out of your hair,” Dean said, gesturing to Cas, who returned to his side. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Yes, thank you for hosting us, Andrea,” Cas added. Dean elbowed him as subtly as possible, to which Cas gave him an innocently confused look.

“Thank you for cooking, Benny,” Dean said forcefully, staring back at Cas. Cas smiled.

The silence stretched.

“Right. Well, until next time then?” Dean said, turning back to Benny.

Definitely the most awkward dinner Dean had been to in years.

* * *

 

Dean and Cas decided to take the long way to the hotel, wandering along the beach. The air was warm and still, and rich with the ocean scent. The night was bright enough to see Cas properly, and watch his hands as he spoke.

“So, dinner wasn’t a total disaster, right?” Dean asked.

“I thought it went well,” Cas replied. “Andrea was lovely.”

“And Benny?”

Cas appeared contemplative for a moment, before he nodded. “He had a sharp tongue and is quick to defend you. I approve of him. You may continue with him as your friend.”

“Oh ‘I may’, may I? How gracious of you.” Cas nodded, like that settled the matter. “Look, Cas, you can’t just decide who I—wait, you _like_ him?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Cas signed, the corners of his lips quirked up. “I don’t think he and I will ever be close, but I think he is a good friend to you. I’m rather certain he is fond of me in the same way.”

“Are you kidding me? I swear, you two nearly gave my a migraine! That was fake?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Cas’s face screwed up. “How do they regularly eat such large quantities of chilli pepper? It’s disgusting.”

Dean snorted, before breaking out into full laughter.

“I can’t believe you,” he managed to say past his giggling. “And Andrea worked it out, didn’t she? Oh my god!”

Cas grinned at him, darting over to kiss Dean’s cheek. Dean lunged for him, running his fingers along Cas’s ticklish sides. Cas gasped, eyes gone wide, and suddenly he was sprinting away down the beach. Dean gave chase, still laughing.

Dean caught up quickly, of course, and proceeded to tickle Cas until he lay breathless on the sand. Dean flopped down next to him, staring at the stars while they caught their breath.

Dean licked his lips, glancing towards Cas. The moonlight made him luminous, and Dean could barely stand to look at him, it made his breath catch and his heart tremble. Cas was so fantastic, so unreal – he wasn’t even human, but he was so beautiful. Even cursed to half his power, small and voiceless, Cas was magnificent, and Dean couldn’t look away.

“Dean?” Cas signed, with half a smile. Dean swallowed, suddenly overcome.

“I love you,” Dean said.

Cas’s eyes widened, and Dean was already regretting his words, they were just dating, this wasn’t anything serious to Cas, right? What if he’d freaked him out with all his crappy feelings? A guy like Cas could have whoever he wanted, why the Hell would he settle for Dean—

Cas was laughing. Silent, of course, but Dean could tell from the slope of his shoulders and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and the hand he brought up to his mouth in shock. Dean flinched back in instinctive hurt, sitting up to stare across the sea, but Cas followed, taking his hand and speaking rapidly, still silently, enough Dean couldn’t keep up and read his lips.

Despite Dean’s hurt, it was still sort of adorable that Cas forgot he couldn’t speak when he got excited, and Cas’s eyes were fairly gleaming with excitement right now.

“Cas, sorry, you’ll either have to repeat that slowly or sign for me, buddy.”

Cas huffed, rolling his eyes, before signing with one hand, “You love me?”

Right. Yes, that.

“I, uh – I know we’ve not been dating too long or anything, but I – I guess I – yeah. Love you,” Dean mumbled, turning away from Cas with embarrassment.

Cas rapidly patted his arm for attention, and Dean turned to him, cheeks still red, and Cas—

Cas was kissing him.

Dean fell back under the sudden, enthusiastic embrace, his back touching the sand, smiling as Cas repeatedly kissed his lips and across his cheeks and along his jaw. Apparently, his affections weren’t unwanted.

Dean sighed in relief, finally guiding Cas into a proper kiss, which Cas immediately tried to deepen. Shivering pleasantly, Dean pressed closer, letting Cas explore his mouth until he felt like he was floating.

“I love you,” Dean breathed against Cas’s lips the moment they broke for air. He felt Cas’s laugh this time, something filled with utter delight, before Cas was kissing him again.

Somehow, they made their way back to their rooms. The actual journey was a little hazy, but Dean was pretty sure they’d been pressed up against a streetlamp for a bit. He had a distinct memory of catcalling from a passing cab.

They stumbled through the dark in their room, neither willing to relinquish the other long enough to find the main light switch, until Cas tripped backwards on the footboard, landing sprawled upon the mattress and pulling Dean down after him. Momentarily startled, Dean stared down at an equally startled Cas in the dim light before they both began to giggle. Dean hid his face in Cas’s neck, and Cas only held him closer.

The moment Dean had himself under control he shifted onto all fours above Cas. Cas only stared up at him with a gentle smile, and suddenly Dean was breathless again. Barely able to glance away, Dean sent a spark of energy towards the bedside lamp, and watched as the warm illumination swept over Cas.

This was the man – the being – he loved, all spread out for Dean’s appraisal and worship.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, brushing his fingers across Cas’s cheek. He leaned into Dean’s touch, smiling up at him, and Dean just had to taste his lips again. “Cas, I want to make you feel so good.”

Cas’s eyes grew darker, and he shifted restlessly beneath Dean. Dean could feel his arousal pressed against Dean’s thigh. He shifted, just to hear Cas’s breath hitch.

“Please, Cas. Let me. Let me kiss you, and touch you,” Dean groaned.

Cas nodded, and Dean swept down to take his mouth once more, to feel Cas’s silent groans against his mouth.

“Okay,” Dean murmured. “If I do something you don’t like, just tap three times, and I’ll stop. Got it?”

Cas smirked lazily, tapping Dean’s hip three times, and Dean grinned.

He kissed down Cas’s jaw, pausing to lave at his earlobe and moving on when it produced no more than a content sigh. He wanted Cas to feel consumed by pleasure, to writhe with it until he could barely think. Only the most sensitive zones would do.

Cas shuddered slightly as Dean traced his neck with the tip of his tongue, arching his neck to encourage Dean further. Dean kissed all down his neck, letting his teeth trail across Cas’s throat and grinning in satisfaction when Cas’s hips twitched up into his.

But as Dean began to nose back his shift collar, Cas seemed to freeze up. But he wasn’t tapping, so…

Dean leaned back up, glancing questioningly into Cas’s eyes.

“This is okay, right?” Cas nodded, but he still looked a little uncomfortable, almost nervous. “If you don’t want to do anything more, I’ll back off.” This time, Cas’s eyes widened, and he shook his head nearly frantically, hooking one leg over Dean’s to pull their hips closer. Dean nearly moaned as it brought their cocks to align, but he resisted the urge to grind down.

“Okay, so, not that then,” Dean said with a strained voice, actually groaning as Cas rocked up into him. “Definitely not that. Is it nerves, or something?”

Cas shrugged, his eyes darting away for a second, before back to Dean.

“Wait, Charlie said most air elementals don’t have physical bodies, is that it? Is this your first time?”

Cas bit his lip, and nodded. Dean relaxed somewhat. Virgin nerves were something he knew how to deal with.

“Okay, then, same as before. I’ll keep going, and I’ll be trying to focus on any areas that you like me touching, but if it gets overwhelming or uncomfortable or you want to stop, just tap three times, and I’ll check with you.”

Cas grinned up at him, and Dean leaned down to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Cas relaxed back as Dean shifted lower again, and this time he didn’t freeze up.

Dean decided to take his time, licking and nipping and kissing all along Cas’s collarbones and shoulders as he uncovered them, before kissing down his chest. By the time Cas’s shirt was half off, his chest was rising rapidly under Dean’s ministrations.

Cas was amazingly responsive. Dean quickly got caught up, watching Cas’s every sigh and silent moan, testing and kissing and sucking along his skin until Cas began to shift and twitch beneath him. Occasionally, Cas tried to speed things up, bucking and grinding against Dean, but he could never keep it up for more than a few seconds before Dean caught him in the slower rhythm again.

Cas was gorgeous.

* * *

 

How was it possible for such tiny human bodies to feel so celestial?

Castiel arched up into Dean’s touch, his mind whirling and spinning from pleasure to pleasure. The marks on his neck throbbed lightly, reminding him of Dean’s mark upon him. The heat from Dean’s body was intoxicating, and Castiel wanted to steal it closer and hold it against himself always. Dean’s slick, clever mouth seemed to find every little  sensitive zone on his body, and Castiel could barely think between it all.

He bucked into the delicious friction Dean was providing. All of this, and they were only half naked! It was wondrous!

Dean’s hands were sliding lower, and Castiel blinked up at the ceiling in a daze as he realised his shirt was completely undone. Dean’s fingers tickled along the hem of his trousers, and Castiel shivered again.

“Is this alright?” Dean asked, staring up at Castiel from where he was hovering above Castiel’s cock, and how could that even be in question? Of course, of course, he needed Dean’s touch. Needed to know what it felt like next. Needed to touch Dean, hold him close. He wanted to feel Dean’s touch. He wanted Dean to bring him pleasure, to do all those things he said and make Castiel feel good. And maybe once he was done, Castiel could do the same to him…

Shakily, Castiel tried to sign _yes, please, touch me, do it,_ before giving up and just nodding enthusiastically. He wanted all of Dean’s touches.

Dean undid his trousers, folding them back to release Castiel’s cock.

Dean smirked, his eyes darting up to Cas’s, and Castiel moaned silently at the mischief in them. Before moaning again as Dean _licked_ him! His head fell back, and it was all Cas could do to tangle one hand in Dean’s hair.

Dean loved him. Dean loved him, and wanted to pleasure him.

This was the human way of making love. It was amazing.

Dean's lips brushed along his cock, and Cas groaned at the tease. He could nearly feel Dean's amusement, and Cas tugged on his hair in reprimand.

"Patience, Cas," Dean murmured, but he relented and took Cas into his mouth. Cas gasped, bucking sharply at the sensation. 

Cas lost himself to the pleasure of it. Dean's mouth. Dean's hands. The occasional murmured words of praise or encouragement whispered into his skin. It all built up, sending him spiralling until Cas wasn't entirely certain he wasn't floating, until suddenly the sensation crested, and Cas was gone. 

He returned to himself a minute later, his heart beating like a hummingbird as something like electrostatic coursed through his veins. Dean was watching him, resting his head on Cas's hip and staring at him with a gentle smile. 

"Good?" 

Cas blinked, his breathing still too fast, and he nodded. 

"Awesome," Dean said. 

"Now you?" Cas signed, moved to sit up, frowning when his leg brushed against something damp. Dean looked mildly embarrassed. 

"I, uh. It's been a while, and watching you was kinda hot," Dean explained. 

"Oh. So you have also climaxed?" Cas signed, mildly disappointed.

"Jeez, where did you learn that sign?"

"Eileen."

"Of course," Dean sighed, but he looked happy. "Yeah, I 'climaxed'."

"That is a shame."

"Why?"

"Because I wished to learn what would pleasure you too."

Dean grinned at that. "Next time, Cas. There's always next time."


	8. Tempest

_ “The End of All Things will begin with two brothers.  Descended from a family of Light magic, one brother will turn against his heritage, and be corrupted by the Dark. A lover will betray their beloved, and the brother who follows the Light will be killed. Lucifer will return to have his revenge against those who banished him, and the world of mortals will be destroyed as the battling of the Elementals begins once more. It will be a time of judgement, and only the most devout will be saved.” _

The End of All Things

The Book of Light, by Metatron the Scribe

 

 

Cas woke with the dawn, as usual. He blinked, the memories of last night flooding his mind, before he sunk back into the warmth of Dean’s embrace. This was perfect. He would not waste it.

A blinking light caught his attention.

Cas squinted at it, and felt the blood drain from his face. It was the Story Mage’s stone. It was time for Cas to perform the final favour.

Cas glanced to the window. It was still early, and Dean was likely tired from their exertions together. Slowly, he rolled over to face his lover. Dean snuffled, his arm momentarily tightening over Castiel’s shoulder, before he settled back into low snoring. Dean looked peaceful, beautiful in the morning light. Cas felt his heart flutter at the sight. 

He had to leave. After this last assignment, he would be free to truly be with Dean. Perhaps he’d even be able to regain his voice once his transformation story was complete.

The Story Mage only lived in the next valley over. If he was quick, he could make it back before Dean awoke.

Gently, Castiel began to extricate himself from Dean’s hold. Even in his sleep, Dean seemed to object at distance being placed between them.

Eventually he made it. Dean sighed, shifting until he was sprawled on his back across the bed, and Castiel couldn’t help the little burst of fondness at the sight. Quickly, he leaned in to place a kiss on Dean’s cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, love,” Castiel whispered, although as usual his words didn’t make a sound.

Climbing on the windowsill, Castiel glanced at Dean one final time, before throwing himself into the sky.

The morning updrafts were delightfully warm, brushing against his skin like Dean’s kisses.

The valley the Story mage lived in was still cast in shadows when Castiel found it. He landed just outside the ward-line, and called for the Mage’s attention.

“Ah, Castiel. Prompt, as always,” the Mage said, creating a doorway through his wards with the wave of one hand. Castiel winced at his smarmy tone, but stepped through. “What can I do for you? No, wait, don’t tell me – you’re here for that final favour.”

Castiel nearly rolled his eyes, but curbed the urge. It didn’t do to offend anyone who you owed favours to, especially if they had granted you a boon.

“Well, come on then. Let’s go inside, I was just making tea,” the Mage offered. Castiel swallowed, and shook his head. He really didn’t want to be here too long. There was a warm bed waiting for him, and a warmer embrace.

“You know, it is very impolite to reject good tea when it is being offered. What, are you planning on running straight home?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, I just want to know what my next task is. Please,” Castiel said. The mage raised one eyebrow, but otherwise pretended he hadn’t heard Cas speaking at all.

“You’re looking uncomfortable, Castiel. Are you late for something? Surely there was nothing more important I’m keeping you from?”

Castiel sighed, before shaking his head and following the elemental into his cottage. Deep within the towers of books, the Mage produced a tea set and sugars. Cas took his cup, waiting impatiently as the Mage sat in the only chair in the tight space and prepared his own drink. It felt like several minutes later when the Mage finally took a sip, and sighed with contentedness.

“There we go. Now, what was it you’re here for again?”

Cas glared, and the Mage smirked, his eyes belying his own amusement at making Cas wait.

“Ah, yes. Your debt to me. Well, you can be assured this is the last thing I’ll ask of you. Complete this task and I will consider all debts between us settled. You’ll be a free man.” The Mage paused to take a sip, apparently to increase the tension Castiel was feeling. “All you have to do for me is kill Sam Winchester.”

Cas felt his heart stop in his chest. He shook his head, stumbling back in shock.

The Mage chuckled at his reaction, taking another sip of his tea.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like you love the guy.”

“I will not harm Sam!” Cas said vehemently.

“I never said you had to hurt him, just that you need to kill him. And is it really that much worse than theft or coercion? It’s for Love, after all,” the Mage said.

“No! I reject this. Anything else, I will do anything else for you, but I will not kill. I will not harm others.”

The Mage lost his smile. “You are in no position to be negotiating, Castiel. You owe me. This is what I have chosen. Obey me, kill Sam Winchester, and you can live happily ever after with your Dean. Don’t you want that? To be with your love?”

“I will not harm Sam,” Cas glared at the Mage. It didn’t matter if the Mage grew upset, or if he undid the spell that made Castiel’s body. He was not a murderer, and he would never do anything to harm an innocent. Even if it meant he could never be with Dean. Even if the idea of being apart from him was breaking Castiel’s heart. This price was too high.

For a moment, the Mage didn’t respond, staring Castiel down. And then he grinned.

“You really are as soft-hearted as they come, aren’t you, Castiel? Honestly, what sort of self-respecting elemental would put a human first anyway? And falling in love with one? Disgusting! I should have guessed you wouldn’t have the fortitude to actually be of any use to me. Oh well.” With a sigh, the Mage stood, wandering to the mantelpiece, where he opened a box. Castiel tensed, recognising the design of the weapon within as a Phosphori Blade. He readied to draw his own blades from the air if the Mage turned hostile.

With a clink of his fingers, a ring of fire sprang into being around Castiel. Shocked, Cas quickly examined the flames, pressing closer, but it was just as he had been dreading. They were powered by holy oil. This was an Elemental’s trap.

“Oh Castiel. You really think I didn’t see this coming? Me? I’m the greatest Light sorcerer the world has ever seen, and you think I couldn’t anticipate your betrayal? Tut, tut, tut. And you were supposedly a strategist in the War, too. I guess loving a human has scrambled your brains.”

Castiel drew his lips back in a silent snarl, the most he could do trapped within the flames. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t have been tricked so thoroughly!

“Poor, stupid, lovesick Castiel. You couldn’t even kill a human to stay with the man you loved. Well, no matter. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

“You will not harm Sam Winchester!” The Mage glanced at him and grinned.

“I think you’ll find I will. Who’s going to stop me? You? Your human?” The Mage snorted.

Castiel needed more time. He needed to find a way to break out of the circle, and make it back to Dean. Together they could protect Sam, but first he needed to escape. While the Mage was turned away, Castiel’s eyes darted all around for anything that could help. There was nothing. Nothing. He needed more time.

“Why do you want to kill Sam? What purpose would that serve?”

“Really? You want me to explain my plan to you? My enemy?” Castiel could do little more than glare and nod. It seemed to amuse the Mage. “Fine, I’ll tell you a little. I’m weaving a story, and killing Sam is Act One.”

“Sam couldn’t possibly have ever done something to harm you, why would his death be important?”

“Because Sam’s important to Them. The big guys upstairs. The Grand Story. And whoever controls the Grand Story controls the world.”

“And you think you could control the Grand Story? You?” Castiel gave a look of disdain. The Mage glowered, and stepped closer to the circle. Desperately, Cas sent a light breeze around the room searching for anything he could still touch, anything he could use to break free.

“Who do you think wrote the Story? I was chosen by the Light himself, I wrote it all down, and I’ve been hunted ever since! I had to hide! To change my name, to make a body and live like a disgusting human, just to avoid their notice! Michael, Lucifer, they can both burn! I’ll throw them down and remake the world the way it should be! I’ll bring us back to the Grand Story.”

Castiel blinked in surprise. “You wrote it? You’re Metatron?”

Finally, there was a glint of satisfaction in the Mage’s eyes as he stepped away from the fire circle. “Yes, it is I. Metatron, the chronicler of the Words of the Light. The only being in the world that knows more of the Grand Story is the Light himself. I would make an excellent leader.”

In that moment, Castiel worked out how to escape.

With a sudden gust, he toppled the book towers, guiding a few dozen to land on the fire ring. They instantly began to catch. Metatron lunged towards them with a gasp, and Castiel stole his chance. In less than a second he was flying through the broken circle and out the door. He heard Metatron calling after him as he flew through the wards, moving as fast as he could to reach Dean.

Castiel had minutes at most. Metatron would already be unweaving the Story Spell that had given Cas his body, it wouldn’t be long before he was nothing more than formless air once more, and he wouldn’t be able to warn anyone.

The village! He was nearly there.

With a shriek, Castiel fell from the sky, leaving a small crater where he landed. He struggled back to his feet, trying and failing to start flying once more.

He began to sprint. He was so close. He just had to tell someone. Anyone who could get to Dean.

Castiel stumbled badly, tumbling forwards to land awkwardly. He nearly screamed when he felt his forearm snap, but that was nothing to realising his lower legs no longer existed. Even now, the pain from his arm was quickly fading as the matter he was made from disintegrated into nothing. He wasn’t going to make it. He wasn’t going to make it.

“Castiel?”

Castile spun around as best he could, recognising Benny.

“What is happening—“ Castiel quickly waved his remaining hand in Benny’s face and began singing as well as he could one handed.

“Dean? Dean, danger, brother – Castiel you need to slow down, my signing’s not that good – okay, danger, Dean, Sam – you’re saying the brothers are in danger? From who? What’s going on? Castiel? Castiel!”

It was already too late. He was closer to full zephyr than man, enough to regain full mobility. Enough to regain his true voice. Castiel flew through the streets along the winds, rattling window shutters and tipping over potted plants in his haste. He screamed through the narrow passages as a gale, until he found the windowsill to their room.

* * *

 

Dean awoke to an empty bed. He frowned sleepily, reaching across to where Cas had been. The sheets were cold.

Dean blinked, but dismissed it. Cas had probably woken early, and gone to the bakers to get them breakfast. Or something. Dean was being too suspicious.

Several minutes passed, and Cas did not return. Dean shifted to sit up, too anxious to wait doing nothing. At least all of Cas’s bags were still here, so he was definitely going to return. He always had before, whenever he’d gone… wherever it was he went.

Maybe Dean really had ruined things. Maybe Cas had just been humouring him, playing along with what Dean wanted until the first chance he had to leave.

No, Cas wasn’t like that. He was honest. And it wasn’t like Dean had been pressuring him or anything last night. If Cas had wanted to stop, he would have said. If Cas just wanted to stay casual he would have said.

Where was he?

Something glinting on the top of Cas’s bags caught Dean’s attention. Dean looked away. It was Cas’s stuff, Dean had no right to search through it.

He glanced back. Frowned. Was that a messaging stone?

Dean got up, searching his own bags for his clothing, and pulling out a snack once he finished changing. He sat on the edge, staring at the stone at the top of Cas’s bags.

It had been at least fifteen minutes since he’d awoken now, and Cas still wasn’t back. Where was he?

Maybe Cas had the other signalling stone, and he’d left this one for Dean to tell him all was well. Dean knelt by the bag, removed the stone, only to pause. The jeweled scarab underneath, he recognised that. It was famous, incredibly valuable, and it had been stolen the day after they’d flown from Sonora.

It wasn’t possible. Cas couldn’t be the thief. Cas wasn’t that sort of guy. Except, hadn’t he disappeared on his own for a few hours that day? He wouldn’t tell Dean where he’d been, just that he was stretching his wings. He couldn’t have…

Dean opened Cas’s bag more fully, quickly rifling through it. His stomach dropped lower with every artefact he found, each one of them hideously expensive and all of them recently stolen from museums, rich folks and collections around the country. Every one stolen around the time Dean had been visiting.

How could he have been so fucking blind? Cas had been playing him all along, ever since he first showed up in the wilds. He probably wasn’t even mute, the fucker.

There were items missing. With a glance, Dean knew which ones. The weapons. Cas had kept all the weapons, leaving the pretty, but useless cultural artefacts so Dean would get the blame. And of course he’d be blamed for this. Officially Cas didn’t really exist. He was a Non-human entity, registered in Lebanon and nowhere else. Dean was the one who had visited every city. He’d been invited behind every ward, and brought Cas in too. Cas, a non-human he barely knew.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. The magnitude of his stupidity was astounding. Of course this was what Cas wanted all along. Of course he wasn’t really interested in Dean. He’d just been using him as the most gullible son of a bitch he could find.

The door slammed open, and Dean jumped. Benny was stood, quickly taking in the mess, picking out the stolen artefacts with grim eyes.

“We need to go, brother. Right now. There’s two officers of the law just got in at the station looking for you.” Benny’s words barely made sense. They were just echoing within him right now.

“Cas played me…” Dean said. Benny stepped inside the room, quickly grabbing anything that seemed important and stuffing it into Dean’s bags. After a second, Dean began to copy him. “That son of a bitch played me. All this time, he was setting me up, like some fucking perfect patsy!”

“Brother, we can whine all we like about your Castiel as soon as we’re in the air, but we need to get moving now!”

“Right, right.” Dean moved with a quick, mechanical ease born of a lifetime spent on the move. After a second's hesitation, he packed all the stolen artefacts back into Cas’s bag. No way was he leaving a heap of powerful, expensive stuff to be picked over by the local dumbass police.

Quickly, they made their way downstairs, ignoring the calls from the innkeeper for them to stop. On the street, Dean spotted the police and quickly turned away, walking calmly besides Benny. They had one chance not to attract attention.

“Hey, you! Dean Winchester!”

Too late.

Dean broke into a run, ducking into a side alley after Benny. They ran flat out, weaving through little back streets and side paths through the maze of buildings, before suddenly coming out into the open. There, only half a field away, sat Impala.

They ran for it.

Dean was already settled, Benny in behind him, when the officers appeared. Dean swore, before trying to call up the wind. The air began to shift, but too slowly. Already, Dean could see them preparing a fireball spell from the corner of his eyes. They’d never make it.

Suddenly, a gale roared across the field, plucking Impala off the ground like a leaf. Dean lurched back in his seat, whistling more fiercely to try and direct the heavy winds so they wouldn’t damage anything. Fire flickered across his sight for a second, deflected by the wind before going out entirely.

The wind gentled a little as they reached 400 ft and suddenly Dean was in control again. He brought them up higher, riding the early morning updrafts, and they were away. They were safe.

“Where should we go?” Dean called over one shoulder.

“Lebanon.” Benny replied.

“What? That’s the first place they’ll look, they know that’s where Sam lives.”

“That’s my point, Dean. This morning, I saw something strange. Castiel running through the village a little after dawn as his body disappeared into nothing. I think his Story was unwound.”

Despite himself, despite knowing Cas had been tricking him all along, Dean still felt a trickle of fear for him.

“Well, screw him! Bastard deserves it!”

“I won’t disagree, but Dean, just before he disappeared, he was trying to sign something to me. Something about you and Sam being in danger.” Benny said.

“Well of course we’re in danger! The fucker might as well have drawn targets on our backs! Stealing all that crap! Every low-bit demon and shady magic-user in the country probably knows about the thefts by now, and they think I’ve got it all. To them, we’re basically the most easily accessible weapons cache in the country now!”

“I not sure, brother. I think this was something else. Castiel looked real shaken, and I’m pretty sure he was trying to get back to you before he went out.”

“Come on, man, I know he was the thief. The timings, the items, it all adds up. Cas was just using me to get past the security.”

“I don’t disagree there, but honestly I don’t reckon that boy could have framed you for anything.”

“He’s a fucking bastard, and I’ll be hunting him down as soon as we get this all sorted out, body or no body.”

“Dean—“

“We are not talking about this.”

Benny sighed, but didn’t try to speak again.

A strong tailwind began to pick up from out of nowhere as they turned towards Lebanon. Dean didn’t question it. He’d always been lucky in the air.

* * *

 

Dean was angry. Castiel couldn’t blame him. This entire thing had become such a mess.

Cas couldn’t believe he had let it go on for so long. He’d known from the first moment that the favours Metatron had been asking were wrong. He’d known, and still stolen, still justified each theft to himself, as if he wasn’t aware of the destructive power those artefacts could give their wielder. He’d justified it all, simply to spend time with Dean.

Metatron had played him. Obviously, the phosphori had been watching him, waiting until Castiel was too invested in Dean to question the nature of the favours he was asked. Hell, Metatron had let it go months before asking anything.

Cas felt like such a fool.

Still, despite the way Dean was cursing his name, Castiel helped guide Impala up into the sky. Anything to get Dean home safely in time to protect Sam and Eileen. Castiel doubted he was the only being who owed a favour to Metatron, and he had a horrible suspicion that they might all be cashed in at once to ensure the success of Metatron’s plans.

Cas was proven right less than an hour into their journey. Out of nowhere, a roc attacked, swooping down from above. Castiel was barely able to deflect the attack in time, sending the bird spinning through the sky. He heard Dean cursing, but Castiel’s attention was on the roc, who was already wheeling around for another attack. Castiel snarled, springing forwards to smack the bird out of the sky. She screeched as she fell, but Castiel knew it wasn’t over. Rocs rarely travelled alone. The rest of her flock would be here any moment.

Quickly, Castiel returned to Dean and Impala, urging them quicker.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later the hunting shrieks of a whole flock of rocs were ringing out across the sky. Dean was swearing again, busying himself preparing a spell of some sort while Impala flew on. Castiel took the time to prepare his own magic.  

Benny appeared to have had the same idea. As the first roc drew close, a shard of Dark energy was sent her way, quick enough she couldn’t evade it.  Seconds later, her battle shrieks grew panicked and terrified, and she spun around, attempting to dodge some unseen enemy. The illusion quickly overtook her, and she fell behind. 

Benny sent another bolt of energy at the next roc to come close enough, but this one appeared to be more cautious. The spell missed. 

Dean tried his luck as the rest began to draw close, circling Impala like a flock of crows readying to mob an eagle. His attack found its mark, but Cas felt it as the magic brushed by the large birds, completely ineffective. It appeared the rocs were defending themselves now. 

Castiel had had enough. Dean wasn’t going to escape this alone. He activated his chain lightning spell, charged far past the capacity he had used on the hellhounds all those months ago.

Every bird was hit.

Castiel watched as they fell from the sky. Most of the rocs who survived the electric shock would be killed by the fall if they didn’t quickly overcome their paralysis. He had just killed over a dozen creatures at once.

Castiel felt his soul ache for a moment before he pushed it away. He had been a soldier once. He knew how to focus past the guilt of your actions, if only for a short time. Even if they were as entrapped in obligation as he was, now was not the time to mourn for anyone who chose to attack Dean or his family.

There was peace for a short while. They were making good time, flying several times faster than Dean would be able to manage with winds and magic alone. Already the mountain pass was in sight, hours before expected.

“Castiel?” Dean called out. Cas felt a frisson of surprise, although he supposed he should have expected it. His combat spells hadn’t exactly been subtle. “Castiel, I know you’re there! Show yourself!”

“I wish I could,” Cas muttered. Dean, of course, heard nothing.

“You heard me talking with Benny, right? I know everything now. I know you were tricking me. I know you wanted to frame me. I swear to you, Castiel, once this is all over, I am going to hunt you down and give you what you deserve!”

Dean’s words hurt. Cas ignored them, instead focusing on flying. 

Finally, Lebanon came into sight. Cas nearly sighed in relief. He was tired. Exhausted from the combination of carrying Impala across the sky faster than she was designed to move, and the frequent battles. The rocs were not the last of the beings that chose to test their luck and attack Dean.

Dean had attempted to fight back, sending out bolts of energy and fire, and at one point Dean even sent off an illusion of Impala as a distraction. He didn’t speak again, but seemed to grow more tense as they got closer to home.

Dean aimed past the Lebanon airstrip, heading directly for the Winchester house. As they approached, it became clear that they were not the only ones who had fallen under attack. Several different elementals and monsters stood just outside the wards, trying to break through. Castiel carried Impala over their heads, deflecting a few fireballs with an irritated twitch.

Dean flew straight through the wards.

Cas did not. He screeched as the wards sent wave after wave of pain through his being, shuddering as he fell back. Zephyr wardings. He’d taught Sam well. If only it wasn’t so damn inconvenient now!

At least Dean was temporarily safe within the wards. Still shuddering with pain, Cas took stock of the situation.

Dean was safe, but only for a short while. with so many beings assaulting the wards, it wouldn’t be too long before the barriers fell. More servants of Metatron were appearing every minute. Vampires, werewolves, three phosphori, an undine, seven oreads, what looked like a banshee, and a few hellhounds under the command of a masked sorcerer.

This wasn’t good. Castiel was only one being, even if he was a superior warrior. Not to mention he was already drained from their flight and the battles along the way. He wouldn’t be of assistance to Dean much longer at this rate.

He needed help. 

Castiel was reluctant to leave, but he forced himself to. Dean could defend himself and his family for now at least, there would be no better moment to seek allies. 

He didn’t have much luck. The nearest stream and river undini outright refused, despite their friendly terms with Castiel. He couldn’t blame them, considering the danger, but he still felt a little resentful. many of the other elementals from the area were already missing, either hiding from Castiel’s sight, or recruited by Metatron.

A lone phosphori caught his attention. Castiel flew down to land before her, hoping that she wasn’t another of Metatron’s slaves.

“I need allies,” Castiel said bluntly as soon as he was close enough. “Would you lend me your assistance in combat?”

The phosphori didn’t answer, staring at him with large, cautious eyes. She was wearing the form of a human woman with pale skin and dark hair, and a certain smugness about her mouth. There was something nearly familiar about her.

“Clarence?”

Castiel was momentarily stunned into silence. It couldn’t be…

“Meg?” Of all the people it could have been, what were the chances of it being Meg?

She smiled ruefully, something nervous in her eyes.

“Hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it,” she spoke. “Nearly ten years, right?”

Nearly ten years since Castiel had discovered the depths of her treachery and cruelty. Ten years of wondering how he could have overlooked her actions so long, or excused them. Ten years longing for the easy friendship that had once existed between them and been left shattered as Meg fled persecution for her actions.

Castiel swallowed his feelings, looking away in silence. As much as he wished to speak with her, to discover if there was any chance to recover what they had lost, he didn’t have time for this right now. He shifted to leave.

“I can help,” Meg murmured. Cas paused, glancing back to her. “You know I am an exceptional warrior. Whatever it is you need now, I can help.”

“We didn’t part friends, Meg.”

She flinched, but held his gaze.

“I know, and that’s my fault,” she said.

“Yes, it is.”

“So let me make it up to you.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“Come on, Clarence, you know me—“

“Do I?” Castiel retorted. Meg flinched again, dropping her eyes. “I thought I knew you, Meg. I thought – fuck, I don’t have time for this.”

“Castiel, please! Let me help you!”

Cas eyed her, aware of the time pouring by as he hesitated. The wards at the Winchester house could have broken in his absence. Sam might already be dead.

“At the very least, can you tell me how Balthazar is?” Her voice was quieter now, uncertain. Castiel sighed.

“Balthazar’s fine. If you are going to fight beside me, you must take an Ally’s Oath. You will not harm me, intentionally or by inaction for the next week.” Meg accepted the words easily, lifting her hand to roughly mirror Castiel’s, pressed palm to palm. A sliver of energy began to wrap around their hands like ribbon, binding them as Meg agreed to his terms. “You will also not harm the Winchesters, or any of their allies, either intentionally or by inaction,” Cas added. Meg’s eyes grew wider, but she agreed again, even though his phrasing hadn’t specified an end-time to that particular promise. Cas felt oddly appreciative that she hadn’t challenged it.

Cas relaxed as the magic settled, binding them together.

“What do you need, angel?” Meg asked. He nearly rolled his eyes at the familiar nickname (“angels are a fanciful human construct, Meg, as a zephyr I am far superior,” “You seem pretty featherbrained to me, Clarence,”) but decided to focus.

“Metatron has laid siege to the Winchester house with the intent to kill Sam Winchester. I must prevent this. I need allies willing to fight elementals.”

“Ah. Okay.” Her eyes were wide with understanding. “Does that mean you still have a thing for Dean—“

“They are under attack now! I need to return,” Castiel cut her off.

“Right, yes. You go on back, I’ll find you more allies. I won’t be too long.” Meg’s form flickered, before she transformed into a column of light and fire, and in that form she shot across the sky like a comet. Castiel felt briefly thankful as he turned back towards Lebanon and the Winchester house.

Maybe, after this was all over, he could actually work things out with Meg.

There were even more creatures testing the wards of the Winchester House when Cas returned. He moved closer, unnoticed by the horde, and began to summon the static from the air. The negative charge grew stronger and stronger, sending sparks up and down his being.

By the time the creatures grew wary of the changing energies in the air, it was too late. Cas released the electricity as a massive surge of light and heat, lightning arcing from one being to another. The air was filled with panicked shrieks. Not even the phosphori were immune to the effects.

After a minute, the last of the arcs sputtered out of existence, leaving carnage behind. Three vampires lay dead and smoking, while the werewolves were struggling upright.

It had been a long time since he had used his powers on such a destructive scale. Cas felt sick at the sight of burned flesh, but he put it to the back of his mind, because now he was at the centre of attention of dozens of powerful creatures.

He prepared to fight.

* * *

 

Dean was out and running nearly the moment he touched down, Benny close behind him. Now that they were here, they could properly lock down the house. Sam and Eileen were at the door as they approached, both with grim expressions, and dressed for battle.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam informed him. “We’ve been repelling attacks for forty minutes.”

“Damn it,” Dean grumbled, storming into the house and towards the armoury. Sam and Benny followed, leaving Eileen outside to monitor the wards.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked.

“Cas sold me out, is what happened! He’s been stealing powerful magical objects, and framed me for it! Now we’ve got a whole heap of power-hungry monsters on our doorstep.”

“What? Cas did this?”

“Benny, you tell him, I need to get my kit on,” Dean growled, grabbing the enchanted fabric from the hanger.

“Whatever he did, I don’t think that boy wanted to harm you, Dean,” Benny said. Dean snorted in disbelief, and began stripping. Benny sighed, and began telling Sam what details he knew. Dean ignored their talking, focusing instead on getting ready for battle.

The battle armour was made up of a lightweight tunic and trousers, enchanted to deflect heat and electricity from the wearer. An overshirt of enamel plates was designed to protect from physical attacks, and even reduced the impact of any damage taken, without impairing Dean’s mobility too much. An amulet tucked under the layers gave Dean a few minutes of extra breath if anyone attempted to drown him. Strapping his machete and pistols into place, Dean was ready.

There were even more monsters outside when they returned. Dean glared at them, walking right up to the inside of the warding. Placing his hand against the invisible wall, inches away from the snapping jaws of a hellhound, Dean willed the wards to grow stronger, feeding his own elemental magic into them.

Behind him, he heard Sam speaking the runes that would activate the long buried deeper defences, the barriers that would make the Winchester house nearly impenetrable. He felt Eileen’s Light magic dancing alongside his own, catching fragments of story – the heroine, healed from the tragedies of her past, making one last stand to defend the happiness of her future.  Benny’s magic joined them, a flicker of Dark among the light, that spark of chaos working in their favour, encouraging even the atoms themselves to spontaneously change their nature.

Beyond the wards, the attacks kept coming. Some preferred physical attacks, while others used magical. A safe distance away, Dean spotted a sorcerer, who was attempting to unweave their wards. He’d be the first to pick off, as soon as the wards were secure.

Suddenly, Dean felt a difference in the air. A quick glance showed that no one else seemed to have noticed the sudden pressure. His hair began to stand on end.

Someone was working air magic.

Dean began to work double time, trying to finish the wards before whatever was coming next, because he was pretty damn certain the next spell was gonna be powerful. He finished, stumbling back and away from the wards.

Just in time.

There was a sudden crack of noise loud enough to set his ears ringing. On the other side of the wards, a massive ball of blinding light illuminated everything for a second, before dozens of arcs of static shot out in every direction. Not a single being on the other side was spared.

It didn’t last long, a minute at the very most. It had done a lot of damage. If that spell had been aimed at their wards instead of their enemies, it might have broken through, reinforcement or not.

The elementals seemed the most unaffected. The phosphori and undini appeared stunned for a few seconds before they shook it off, and the oreads only stumbled at the attack. They all seemed mighty pissed off, though, and they all turned to face the same point, preparing to attack.

It took Dean a moment to understand what he was seeing. There was something invisible that they were attacking, a large something from the look of it. Probably the same something that had attacked their enemies.

“Dean, is that…?” Dean glanced to Sam, who was staring at the same spot.

“That’s your Cas, brother,” Benny added.

Dean swallowed. That was Cas? That power? Fighting off the rocs was one thing, all you really needed to do to stop a bird was take out its wings, but taking on more than two dozen powerful enemies at one?

Why would he be fighting on Dean’s side, anyway? None of this made sense. Castiel hadn’t seemed like the type to steal or betray, but obviously he was. So why follow up and try to help? What could Cas gain from this, because Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to start trusting him again. Why did he want to fight on Dean’s side after painting a target on them?

Dean didn’t overthink it. Drawing his pistol, he began to shoot every being that looked human enough to die from a bullet, taking advantage of the confusion on the other side. 

It wasn’t too long before the enemies began to gain their bearings again, and this time they weren’t just concentrating on the house wards. It was hard to tell what was happening, considering their new victim was literally made of air, but Dean didn’t imagine that being attacked by a dozen elementals, creatures and a sorcerer was much fun. 

It was unnerving to hear the hunting growls of the hellhounds that apparently had both the Sight and jaws that worked on spirits, regardless of their incorporeal nature. Dean grit his teeth, aiming for the head of the lead hound. The pistol jammed, of course.

“Sam! The hellhounds!” 

“On it!” 

Dean felt the shift in the air as Sam dug into their house wards, searching deep under the earth. With a grunt, Sam drew the groundwater to the surface, holding the great weight of the water suspended only through his connection to the stronger magics around them. “Dean! Catch!”

Dean was ready. He caught the water with his own power, letting his anger cool it to ice, before sending the deadly spears outwards and through the wards. 

The hellhounds yelped at the attack, and most of them backed down. Two fell dead. The leader, though, he was determined, his semi-visible jaws still locked shut around something Dean couldn’t see. Dean aimed the last of the ice spears at the hound’s chest.

Out of nowhere, a huge fireball landed on the other side. the fire shifted to form a pillar larger and taller than a man, with an evil face flickering within. Cackling laughter echoed out around the battlefield, like something out of a bad mystery novel. 

“Dean Winchester. At last, we meet.”

Dean paused. 

“I don’t know you, phosphori! Leave, before we extinguish you!”

The phosphori only laughed again, and with a sweeping motion of his arm, the fighting stopped. Dean’s eyes narrowed. Was this their leader?

“You don’t have anywhere near the power to extinguish me, mud-monkey. I have been weaving this story for centuries longer than your lifetime. You are nothing but the tragic minor character in the prologue. I am Metatron! The Scribe! The Author!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You think poor, sweet little Castiel was working on his own? He reported to me at every instance! He stole for me, to ensure my victory!”

“You know what? I hate monologues.” With that, Dean sent a Dark spell straight at Metatron, a ball of brilliant purple energy that crackled and spat as it flew through the air. It just missed Metatron, landing instead on an undine, who wailed in pain. 

Their enemies were attacking again, pummelling the wards. The ground shook under the assault. Waves of new elementals seemed to be pouring in. At this rate, they wouldn’t last more than a few more minutes. 

And then something strange happened.

A smaller phosphori yelled out a word Dean didn’t know, and suddenly there was chaos on the other side of the wards as the elementals turned on each other. Dean blinked, turning to Sam and Benny, but they seemed just as dumbfounded as Dean. Was it a spell, or… were they fighting on Dean’s side?

The fight was brutal. Larger water elementals enveloped smaller phosphori, extinguishing them immediately. One oread screeched as three phosphori burned the clay that made their body into dust and soot and molten glass. Lightning flickered at random, striking everyone nearby. Within seconds, the other mortals on the far side of the wards were all dead or running. This wasn’t a battle for anyone so fragile. 

Dean felt sick watching it. This was the Elementals War, brought to life. This was the battle written in the Book of Light that marked the start of the Apocalypse. All the while, that insane phosphori Metatron wandered untouched and laughing through the carnage.

This needed to stop. Dean needed to stop it. 

Metatron said it had all started with a Story, it was always going to end the same way. Unless Dean found a way a twist it on its head.

“Sam,” Dean called. “We need to break the Story.”

He saw Sam’s eyes widen in understanding. “Right!”

Sam stepped back from the wards, settling onto the ground and drawing a pen and paper from seemingly nowhere. Dean grinned, standing beside him as a guard.

“What are you doing?” Eileen signed rapidly. “No time to sit still!”

“Big spell!” Dean signed back, shouting it too for Benny’s benefit. “We just need a few minutes!”

Eileen rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she turned back to the battle, drawing runes in the air with her hands.

Dean glanced down at Sam, pleased to see he’d already written nearly a whole page.

“You done?” Dean asked.

“Just another paragraph – there! We’re good to go!”

“Great! Start reading!”

It was a spell they had invented together years ago, one that drew on both Light and Dark magic, both Stories and Chaos. It worked on a simple principle. Find whatever trope or cliché the story was using, and flip it on its head.

Stories were predictable. It was part of their charm. It was how they worked. Good triumphs over Evil. The Prince marries the Princess. The Curse is lifted with True Love’s Kiss. Thousands of stories were based on these simple ideas, so how did you make yours interesting?

You added a little chaos.

Sam read out his story quickly, hardly pausing each time Dean interrupted to add a bit or twist a trope, and adapting his basic script as they went. Dean attempted to keep his mind as blank as possible, reacting only when Sam mentioned a cliche or any other obvious thing. By the time Sam finished the script, it was nothing like the original he had written, and energies were building in the air above them, a mix of white and black smoke-like tendrils. 

Dean spoke the anchor rune, and the spell snapped into being, throwing them both to their knees. Energy streamed upwards and out from them, leaving Dean feeling faint. The entwined smokes writhed together, before shooting upwards, shattering the wards.

There was a pause in the battle, before their enemies surged forwards.

“What the hell did you do!?” Eileen cried, as she dodged a falling lump of debris that once would have been the garden table. Spinning on the spot, she decapitated an oread, before dancing back towards them.

Metatron began to laugh.

Benny was similarly beset, struggling with an undine. Dean watched it all, too exhausted to do more than move between Sammy and the oncoming horde.

Out of nowhere, a young man with golden eyes and a mischievous smirk stepped before Dean. He winked, turning towards the battlefield, and raised one hand.

Suddenly everything was different.

A heap of people disappeared before Dean’s eyes, while a heap of others seemed to sigh with relief, before moving to help the wounded. At least three phosphori turned into chickens. One undine turned into a book, while one oread turned into a bejewelled knife. The dead hellhounds transformed into normal, living dogs, except for one who turned into a gruff looking man with a tail who immediately ran away into the trees..

Metatron transformed from a brilliant being of living flame into a portly little man with greying hair.

“Dark magic is so fucking weird,” Dean murmured. The golden-eyed kid – he couldn’t be older than 18 – grinned over one shoulder at him.

It appeared the fight was over, in any case. Dean needed a drink.

“Hi!” the kid said, offering one hand. “My name’s Jack Kline. You’re the Winchester brothers, correct?”

Dean blinked at the offered hand for a second before his brain came back online and he took it, letting jack help him to his feet. Sam was already moving to stand beside him.

“Uh, yeah. That’s us,” Sam confirmed.

“You, uh, came to help us?” Dean asked. Jack’s smile grew blinding.

“You’re real lucky I came by this way! I heard there was a bit of a commotion, so I wanted to see what was going on. Do you have any nougat?”


	9. Downburst

_ “After the Light and the Darkness created the world, they began to roam their creation so best as to enjoy it, leaving the responsibility of the world to the elementals. One in particular, a phosphori named Metatron, was given the particular honour of recording the history of our world for the short-lived mortals to learn and know. But Metatron was ambitious, and abused his position as the Scribe, writing the Dark as evil and vicious when he should have portrayed balance. He began to weave a Story, wrapping it in the illusion of doctrine for the masses, in an attempt to consolidate his own power.” _

Metatron the Treacherous

The Book of Discordia, by Amara the Souleater

 

 

Dean wasn't sure how long it had been since the battle was declared over. Evidence of the fighting was everywhere. The lovely gardens beyond their house warding were torn up and burned, and there was more than one dead body beyond their borders. Dean was just glad he was lucky enough that no one he knew was among them.

Many of the warriors, enemy and ally alike, had snuck away in the chaos Jack left in his wake.  The rest gathered in small groups, helping to bandage the wounded. It was amazing how quickly hostilities were put aside now that Metatron was taken out of the picture. How many good people had been coerced into serving the power-hungry phosphori? Was Cas among them, or had his motives always been more nefarious?

Benny was right. Dean needed to talk to Cas.

Jack sat across from Dean, happily munching on the nougat Sam had managed to find in their kitchen. The kid was the only being within sight who was clean of dirt and blood. His eyes were bright in the evening sunlight, but there was something inhuman about them.

“So, uh, Jack?” Dean began. Jack glanced up at him, his expression on the edge of glee.

“Yes, Dean?”

“You said you were in the area? Like, you were travelling nearby?”

“Oh yes! I’ve been monitoring Lebanon for months!”

“Monitoring Lebanon?”

“Yeah, there was far too much Light magic spilling about the place. Perfect romantic sunsets every evening, tree-lined avenues with blossoms raining down, it’s amazing no one was hurt! Someone was really going all out to ensure their Story followed the narrative they wanted.”

Dean felt a little sick, remembering some of those ‘perfect sunsets’. Had Cas been aware of the literal magic in the air? Had their romance been part of whatever deal he had worked with Metatron, or was it just a side effect? Had any of it been true?

Dean mentally chastised himself. He was being overdramatic, jumping to conclusions. That wasn’t how Light magic worked in any case, it couldn’t create feelings out of nothing. But maybe… maybe it could push a friendly rapport into romance. Gods above, he really needed to talk to Cas.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the groups of elementals standing huddled nearby as Sam asked, “So you track surges in Light magic?”

“Yep! It’s a hobby. I like to, uh, disrupt it. Send it scattering in all directions. Usually whoever is at the centre is rather relieved to be free of it all. I’m doing is a public service, really.”

“Really,” Sam huffed in disbelief. Dean met his gaze long enough to catch Sam’s disbelieving expression, before turning back to scan the elementals. Several of them seemed be surrounding some empty spaces in the air, directing questions and gestures and watching for invisible responses. Dean would bet anything that there were air elementals among the other ‘guests’ currently resting across the Winchester House grounds.

“So does that make you a Dark practitioner?” Sam asked, drawing Dean’s attention back in.

“I suppose you could call me that,” Jack shrugged. “My great aunt calls me the Trickster’s apprentice. I just like watching chaos spread. It’s so predictable!”

“Right, yeah, the first thing anyone thinks of when they think of chaos is the word predictable,” Dean cut in, rolling his eyes, before freezing. This being may look like a kid, but he really wasn’t.

“Mathematically, it’s perfectly predictable,” Jack grinned, apparently unoffended. Dean relaxed after a second. “Your physicists aren’t quite there yet, but there are a few who are close. I bet it will be big news in the next couple years.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent, his eyes finding the absences that marked out the zephyrim. One of them had to be Cas, right?

“Let me get this straight,” Sam said. “You just go around disrupting massively powerful build-ups of Light magic for fun? Because you like watching ‘mathematically predictable’ chaos?”

“Well, someone has to. It keeps things in balance,” Jack replied.

“What about if there was a surge in Dark magic? Adding chaos wouldn’t fix that.”

“My uncle prefers to go after those ones. He loves inventing silly stories to make everyone laugh. Ironic twists are his favourite. What was that spell you both used, by the way? The one that mixed Light and Dark?” Jack asked, licking the chocolate from one finger.

Dean glanced to Sam, who shrugged in return, before turning back to Jack.

“It’s a, Sam and I invented it. A spell to disrupt malicious Stories,” Dean explained.

“It’s clever. Weaving a strand of chaos into an established Story. Very intricate work. It really drew my attention,” Jack commented.

“We can only do it when we work together,” Sam added. “I’m good at recognising literary themes and devices, and I can put them together into a new story quickly enough, but Dean’s the one who makes the stories unique. He makes connections I’ve been trained out of seeing.”

“The world’s not black and white, Sammy. Not everything fits into a neat little story.”

“Well, technically, if you can imagine it—“

“Come on, the physicists at St Budeaux can imagine all their abstract atom particle things, but that doesn’t make atoms into a story—“

“But they could be used as a plot point! It’s a common tale, the pursuit of knowledge—“

“So what? Telling tales about famous discoveries doesn’t create the discovery itself. That’s science, not literature.”

“The story of their discovery exists independently of the author, that’s simply how the world works—“

“What, so people only learn about Dark magic because they’re wrapped up in these ‘knowledge quest’ stories?”

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

“We’re not all at the mercy of some all-powerful author, that’s all I’m saying.”

Jack grinned, glancing back and forth between them as they argued. “You guys are great, you know that? Debating the mysteries of the universe together. I mean, you’re both wrong, but you’re close.”

“What?” Sam replied, jerking back around to stare at Jack.

“There’s a Grand Story, yeah, but it doesn’t have that much power over your future or anything. That’s what the Chaos is for, to give you all a chance to choose free will over order. The world’s more balanced that way.”

Dean couldn’t help but feel a little smug seeing Sam’s jaw drop.

“Oh, Dean?” Dean turned to Jack. “That doesn’t mean you’re free from Stories. In fact, there’s some rather powerful Light magic woven around you right now. You’ve been the main character of someone’s narrative.”

Dean felt something cold run down his spine at the words, but he managed a smile. “Yeah, I thought I might be.”

Jack smiled in what seemed like sympathy, and moved to stand.

“I think I’ll be on my way, then.” Jack stretched, clicking his fingers. Metatron appeared by his feet, bound in ropes. His mouth was moving as if he was talking or pleading, but not a sound escaped him. “I’ve got to take this one back to my great aunt. She’s been rather irritated with him, you see. His job was to write out the Truth of Light and Dark, but he kept skipping the important bits about the Dark!”

Metatron’s eyes went wide at Jack’s words, and his silent pleading became even more vehement. Jack sighed, crouching down to Metatron’s eye level.

“Come on, you know how much it upsets auntie Amara when she gets left out of family things. Even Grandpa Chuck said it was a bit of a rude thing to do. And then instead of apologising, you ran away and hid for centuries! Very rude.”

Metatron looked on the edge of crying now. Dean nearly felt pity for the guy, before remembering only hours ago he’d been trying to murder Sam. Jack stood back up with a sigh.

“Sorry about all of this,” he said, gesturing to Metatron. With a click of his fingers, the ex-phosphori disappeared. “And thank you for the nougat. It was nice to meet you both.”

“You too, kid,” Dean replied, jabbing Sam’s side when Sam took too long to answer.

“Yes! Uh, it was nice to meet you too, Jack!” Sam rambled, his eyes wide and star-struck.

Jack gave one last smile, and turned to walk away. Between one blink and another, the kid disappeared into the shadows.

Sam was still staring after him with awe. Dean was glad to say he had far more grace than that.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Did – did Jack Kline just imply that the Goddess of Darkness is his great aunt?”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“We just met a demi-god. I gave him nougat.”

“You sure did, Sammy,” Dean sighed, his eyes finding the elementals again. There were fewer of them left now, but still a few spaces that looked like they could be zephyrim.

“Dean! Why aren’t you more excited? This is proof the Gods exist! Light and Dark! The Grand Story! Theologists have been trying to prove the Grand Story for centuries!”

“Cas told me it was real a couple months ago.”

“What?” Sam spluttered. “You – you knew?!”

“Yeah. Apparently all the elementals know, and like half of them have met the Gods. It isn’t that big of a deal.” Dean paused, turning to Sam for a moment. “Really? Centuries? And no one thought to ask an elemental? They’re in like, every god myth.”

Dean was certain he could find an oread or a phosphori willing to translate from Common to Auran—

“Dean? I nearly forgot to tell you.” Jack’s voice startled Dean and he spun around to find the Darkness’ nephew standing uncomfortably close. For the first time since Dean had first met him, there was no trace of a smile on his lips. “You don’t need to worry about Castiel. His injuries won’t be fatal now that I’ve arranged for the proper care, so everything’s fine!”

Jack disappeared.

So, maybe it was true that only this morning Dean had been ready to hunt Cas to the ends of the continent and back, but that did nothing to disrupt the fear Dean was feeling at  _ Cas being fatally injured!  _ Gods above, Cas had to choose the day Dean was angry with him to get hurt.

“Jack Kline! That was not the correct way to reassure someone!”

* * *

 

Cas woke slowly, and over several days. With every blink, the sun had jumped across the sky. It made him dizzy.

There was someone nearby. A familiar presence, and another he didn’t recognise immediately. Sometimes others approached, but none ever stayed long enough to remember their faces.

What had happened? Why was he so tired? Why did he feel numb? A memory tickled the back of his mind, dancing away from his reach.

He drifted slowly with the breeze, barely aware of the trees and hills that tethered him in place. The being that tended to him would cluck her tongue and sprinkle magic across him.

It came to him one day. Cas’s mind cleared, like mist before sunlight, and suddenly he was aware, awake. He remembered Dean, and Metatron, and the battle outside the Winchester House. He remembered fighting Metatron’s forces alone, and the way Metatron smirked as his people gained the upper hand. Metatron’s cruel smile as he lifted the Phosphori Blade and stabbed it deep into Cas’s side. Meg had arrived as he was falling leading her own force of warriors.

So that was what had happened. He should be dead by now.

“You decided to wake up, then?”

Cas turned in the direction of the familiar voice, and glared. 

“Crowley,” Cas growled out. His antagonism only seemed to amuse the phosphori, who gave a little wave, a smug smile across his lips. 

“Hello, Darling,” Crowley purred. The phosphori was currently wearing the illusion of a short, stout man, wearing what Cas knew had to be an excellently tailored suit and coat. His eyes still held his true nature though, each of them glowing from within with red flame. 

Cas loathed Crowley. He was a slimey, contrary individual, who could only ever be depended upon to work for his own self-interest, and was an expert at twisting circumstances to squeeze out every last benefit he could find. They had been rivals for centuries, only begrudgingly working together towards the end of the Elemental Wars, when they had both chosen to reject the Grand Story. 

Worst of all, Crowley was quite possibly the most talented healer Cas had ever heard of, among either the mortals or the elementals. Crowley was not humble about it.

“Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” Crowley said, arching one eyebrow. “You did something reckless again, and I graciously stepped in to save your life. You’re welcome.”

Cas considered swatting Crowley aside with a sudden gust, but the aches across his being warned him against moving too much. Instead, he glared even more fiercely. 

For the next few minutes, there was silence between them. Cas remained still while Crowley darted about, examining what was left of Cas’s wounds. Despite his dislike for his carer, Cas found himself relaxing at the familiar touch. Crowley had patched him up so many times in the past, at one point it had been nearly routine. And despite personal dislike, going through a series of life-and-death battles together did create a bond, of sorts. In fact, Cas had nearly dozed off when Crowley spoke again. 

“This makes four, doesn’t it?”

Cas was alert instantly.

“Babylon didn’t count! You know that!”

“It’s not my business how you injure yourself, love,” Crowley said with a smirk, his hands both up defensively. “I just patch you up after you receive mortal wounds no one else has the talent to heal. Four times, now.”

“I was saving your life!”

“Which brought us back to equal, since you owed me after the Battle of Sonora. I wasn’t obligated to save you at Babylon.”

“I was fine after Sonora, you were simply overreacting. Magical exhaustion is hardly life-threatening.”

“If I hadn’t grounded you, you would have lept right back into battle, exhaustion or not. And then you would have died, and then there would be no one around to appreciate my boundless talent.”

The worst part was Cas couldn’t even argue with him. 

“What happened to Dean?” Cas asked instead. 

Crowley paused, halfway through gathering natural magic to craft into a new healing spell, turning to give Cas an amused look. 

“I heard you had found a human. He’s a pretty one, too. Sometimes I despair that you will ever develop something like good taste, and then you surprise me with this.”

“Crowley.”

“In fact, when you’re done with him, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite of him. Maybe we could even find some twins, make a night of it--”

“Crowley!”

“Always so serious, Castiel. I know he’s yours,” Crowley said as he rolled his eyes. “The Winchesters are fine, as are all their little friends. There wasn’t a single fatality among the mortals.”

Cas sighed with relief. 

“And you say I’m melodramatic,” Crowley muttered. Cas was glad to ignore him.

* * *

 

“So, I imagine it’s still too soon for an ‘I told you so’ to be received in good humour?”

“Far too soon, Balthazar,” Castiel sighed, stretching as best he could while literally incorporeal. For some reason, he felt like he had a knot in his shoulders, though he knew that to be impossible. No amount of wiggling or drifting or twisting removed it. 

“i’m going to say it anyway. Cassie, I told you so! I told you the Mage was suspicious, and yet again I’m proven right. You really should listen to me far more often than you do, I really think you would benefit from it.”

“Why are all my friends narcissists?” 

“Crowley, Meg and I are hardly all of your friends,” Balthazar responded. “Although we are the best of the lot.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Balthazar moved closer, drawing Cas into a hug. He relaxed into the hold.

“I cannot believe you almost died. Again. Why do you do this to me, Cassie? You know it isn’t any good for my heart.”

“You literally do not possess a heart, Balthazar, don’t be hyperbolic.”

“Go at least a century without nearly dying and I’ll consider it,” Balthazar muttered. “As soon as you are well, darling, we must head towards tornado country and dance through the winds. That will make you feel better.”

“Maybe,” Cas said. Balthazar sighed, drawing back from him. 

“You’ll be going back to your human, won’t you?” 

Cas nodded. “I love him. Even if we’ll never touch again.” Cas began to smirk. “The same can’t be said for you and Meg, though, can it?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Balthazar said with a false innocence. 

“Only that echoes of her magic are all over you right now,” Cas said, poking one of the largest bundles of foreign magic. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly bashful?”

Balthazar pretended for another moment, before a lascivious grin overtook him. “She returned to the Siroccos when they brought you back.”

“And you reconciled?”

“Oh, spectacularly! I always knew she was something special,” he said, suddenly going dreamy, before he came back to himself, flourishing the evidence of their intimacy. “Do you like it? I’m thinking of making it a permanent look.”

“It’s very becoming,” Cas replied with a flat tone.

Balthazar pouted a moment, but he was far too pleased with himself for the insult to stick.

* * *

 

It took an obscenely long time to make his way to Lebanon, his healing injuries demanding a slow pace. By the end of what should have been a half-days’ journey, he was completely exhausted. Castiel grimaced, but paused for rest in a thicket of trees on the outskirts of the town as night began to fall. In a moment, he’d go on and find Dean.

When he next opened his eyes, the sun was rising.

Cas really loathed being injured.

The Winchester House was quite a sight. The battle-torn grounds were smoothed flat again, with new saplings planted all about. Grass shoots were already growing from the bare earth, and the paving stones had been re-lain. It was obvious there had been conflict here recently, but Cas would bet that within the year there would be no evidence of the fight left at all.

Quietly, Cas settled in to observe.

Many people came and went throughout the day. Sam and Eileen visited the gardens several times, each of them directing gardeners and landscapers about what needed fixing. Benny wandered wherever he could be of assistance, and all manner of well-wishers visited the House, leaving gifts.

It was around midday that Cas spotted Dean. He followed as Dean left the house, wandering the short distance to the building that housed Impala. Cas watched as Dean guided the paperwing out, and began to inspect her sides for damage, fixing any small blemishes as he went. The familiarity of it all made Cas ache.

Dean’s checks didn’t take long. He’d always kept Impala in pristine condition. But Dean didn’t do anything further now that the checks were over. He didn’t place Impala away, or climb inside and prepare to fly. Instead, Dean glanced around, checking for company, before his eyes fell closed and his head tilted forwards.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean sighed. Cas froze in astonishment. Had Dean somehow sensed his presence? “It’s, uh, three weeks ago since we last spoke face to face. I hope you’re feeling better from whatever got you. Jack didn’t mention any specifics…”

No. Dean wasn’t sensing him. This was some sort of one-sided conversation, a prayer maybe.

“I’m still mad at you, you know. I can’t believe you stole all that crap. You know I got arrested? Took them four days to sort it all out. Why’d you even do it?”

“It was the price of my being with you,” Cas murmured. Dean didn’t hear his words, of course.

“You could have told me, you know, that this Meta-douche was making you do shady crap. I would have helped you, you know.”

Dean would have helped, that was true. It felt like at every opportunity, Cas had taken the worst possible choice available. 

He sighed, pushing away such depressing thoughts. They would only hinder him, since apparently Cas was back at square one—trying to discover a way to talk to Dean.  

* * *

 

When the one-month anniversary of the battle came by, Dean couldn’t find any other reason to delay going back to work. Things around the Winchester House had almost returned to normal, the scars of fighting hidden beneath the mundane once more. Sam and Eileen had gone back to their wedding plans. Benny had returned to Caswand and his Andrea. Ellen and Jo had returned to work weeks before. 

Only Dean remained, still waiting for something he didn’t really dare to speak aloud. He could see it in their eyes, sometimes, the pity, knowing that Dean had loved someone and lost him so completely. It made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t really fault them; Dean knew he wasn’t doing too well without Cas. He was just glad that, barring Benny, no one else knew the details. No one else knew that Dean had hated Castiel for a moment, or that he’d cursed at him over and over again while they were flying, or that Dean had considered even for a second that Cas could ever betray him. 

Gods, he’d been such an idiot. What did it say about him that his first instinct was to assume Cas had been playing him all along? To blame him for the mess they had found themselves in rather than to trust him and ask Cas for his explanation? Only the night before they had been exchanging love confessions, and then Dean just turned around and immediately blamed Cas for everything. He really was a jerk of a boyfriend.

Staying in one place was beginning to make Dean feel antsy again. he needed something to do, something to take his thoughts off of the mess he’d gotten into with Cas, and everything about Metatron. he needed to start flying again, long flights instead of these little local ones. He needed to see the oceans, see the mountains, the Great Grass Sea again. He needed to feel busy again. 

Not that Dean hadn’t been busy over the last few weeks. It had taken nearly four days to craft a new wardstone, after the Story Breaker Spell had overloaded the old one, and once that was done, the new warding had taken nearly as long. The only positive was that now they were remaking the wards, they could include Eileen’s blood too, and make her really part of their family magic. 

Cas hadn’t returned. In all the weeks since Jack’s unsettling parting words, Dean had seen neither hide nor hair of Cas. No one brought news. No one could even point him in the direction that Cas might be in. It seemed like after Metatron’s attack, the elementals were all staying as far from human affairs as they could, and as it turned out, many of the elementals working within the Men of Letters were followers of Metatron anyway. Hael Tethys was one of a number who had been arrested for conspiracy to commit murder, along with an oread named Gadreel Platon, and a phosphri woman Dean had actually known rather well who went by the name Tessa Vulcan. Reading her name among the others had made something clench low in Dean’s gut. He had gotten on well with Tessa, and all along she had been helping to plan his brother’s murder…

Once a day, while Dean was alone out looking over Impala, he would pray. Not to the Gods or anything like that, these words weren’t for them. Instead, he directed his musings to Cas, wherever he was. Mostly, it was inconsequential stuff. Updates on their progress fixing up the house, little things Dean had found enjoyable throughout the day, occasionally even a story or two. It helped a little.

Ellen had given him a smile and a hug on the day he returned to the Men of Letters, and then immediately given him 23 packages to deliver to three cities, each due in less than a week.

“You’ve been lazing around that house long enough,” she reasoned. “ You need a challenge.”

it was certainly a challenge, but Dean managed it, and after that it was easy to get back into the swing of things. 

Sometimes, he thought he could nearly feel Cas nearby. A familiar magic pressing against his own, tickling and just out of reach. When he flew, he could feel Impala humming as unnatural breezes buoyed her wings alongside the gusts that Dean whistled into being. Whenever he spoke a prayer directed to Cas, Dean swore he could hear his own name whispered within the wind. On those days, the wind felt like a caress across his cheeks. 

It wasn’t until one day while he was camped in the wilderness that Dean was able to confirm that the spirit he could barely sense was the one he had been missing so much. Dean had been wary at first when he saw the form of a woman approaching from the trees. She seemed almost to glow from within regardless of the shadows around her, and her figure flickered slightly whenever a breeze passed by. She was obviously magical, if she was even human. 

Dean didn’t feel any more secure when she got close enough to recognise. 

“Meg.”

“Hey, Deano. How’s your life been?”

Dean glared at her, and with a jerky movement, he strengthened his camp wards. Meg raised her brows.

“Don’t trust me?”

“The last time we met, you set a pack of hellhounds after me and tried to sacrifice my brother to the undini Lucifer.”

Meg gave a rueful smile, shrugging her shoulders.

“Can’t we just let bygones be bygones? Besides, I’m fairly certain what I have to say to you today will help you forgive me.”

“Yeah, I doubt that, bitch.”

“Your boyfriend’s alive.”

Dean paused, before frowning at her. “Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Castiel, you dolt. I thought you’d appreciate knowing that the spirit you keep nearly sensing nearby is exactly the one you want it to be. He’s here now,” Meg added, jerking her thumb off to the left. 

Dean spun around to look, but of course he could see nothing. He swallowed down his brief disappointment as he turned back to Meg.

“Why should I trust you anyway? What are you getting out of this?”

At that, Meg actually looked a little uncertain. Dean was surprised. He didn’t think the phosphori had ever looked anything other than completely composed and cocksure. 

“It’s a favour for a friend.”

“You have friends?” Dean retorted, before he really processed her words. “Wait, are you saying  _ you’re _ friends with _ Cas _ ?”

“For decades since before your Granpappi was born. Me and Clarence were like this,” she said, crossing her fingers.

Dean’s head was spinning a little. Surely this wasn’t true too? What were the odds that Cas had been in association with at least two beings who were out for his brother’s blood?

Meg sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“No need to panic, Deano, Clarence dropped me the moment he discovered what I had been doing with Azazel.” Meg’s voice was coloured with genuine regret as she spoke. “The only reason he’s allowing me anywhere near you is because he’s pretty confident he can strike me down if I try to put you in danger.” Meg paused, turning to stare at the empty space besides Dean. “What? It’s true.”

Watching Meg, Dean was struck by a sudden bout of jealousy. Why was it that she was able to see Cas when Dean had been longing to do so for months now? 

Meg nodded, before turning back to Dean.

“Clarence wants to try and explain himself, and also to apologise to you,” Meg said. 

“Don’t tell me.” The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he knew what he was saying. “I don’t want to hear.”

This only seemed to make Meg angry. 

“What the hell, asshole? Do you often go around dismissing people’s sincere apologies right out of hand—”

“Meg, I don’t want to hear Cas’s words from you. I want to hear them from him.” 

This, at least, seemed to give her pause. 

“You know that there isn’t really any magic that can give a non-corporeal spirit a body, right?”

“If Metatron managed it, surely it isn’t that far out of reach.”

“I’m just saying, it could be a very long time before either of you learn enough about this to put it into practice. Could be years, could be longer. Are you sure you want to wait that long just to talk to him?” Meg asked. “I could act as a translator, right here right now.”

Dean thought about it for roughly one second before he nodded. 

“I want to wait, to see Cas’s words in his own hands, not hear them in your voice. I love him. Cas, I love you, you hear me?” Dean called, looking around to try and pinpoint the zephyr. There was no way to tell which bit of air was him, of course, other than a general feeling that meant that Cas was in the area. Dean did his best to memorise the feeling.

Meg was staring into space again, before she shrugged. 

“You’re both lovesick saps. Honestly, why do you insist on making things so hard for yourself?” Meg said, turning to walk back towards the trees. Dean didn’t see her again. 

Cas travelled with Dean after that. Dean could feel his presence following alongside Impala whenever they flew, and it was nice knowing Cas was still nearby, even if Dean couldn’t see or touch or hear him. It was nice knowing he was okay. 

Dean still spoke to Cas daily, just sharing his thoughts aloud, though he longed for a proper conversation. Some days the longing was so sharp that Dean could barely believe he had dismissed Meg’s offer to act as a translator. Rationally, he knew she was untrustworthy, even if Cas had once been friends with her, and the idea of hearing Cas’s words from her mouth made his spine crawl, but some nights he just felt so alone, even knowing Cas was there. 

Dean took to avoiding staying overnight in cities. Being inside, cut off from the sky, cut off from Cas, it hurt. After completing his duties for the day, Dean would head out of the town and set up a camp under the stars. It was worth it, just to feel Cas so close. 

The only exception he made was for research. Obviously, Cas was at a disadvantage, given that he couldn’t really check out books from a library or anything, so Dean would do it instead, spending his free time searching for tomes and spellbooks and anything about magical theory. As Meg had said and Metatron had proven, it wouldn’t be impossible for Cas to regain a body, just very difficult. Dean just needed to find the right spell, and they could work something out from there.

Cas spent a lot of time practicing his magic too. Whenever Dean had finished settling in for the night in their camp, Cas would display his progress, creating small whirlwinds of leaves and dirt and debris that were still larger than Dean was tall. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what Cas wanted to do with them at first, but after a month of watching the vortexes grow smaller and tighter, he began to understand. Cas was trying to create a temporary body the same way an oread would use clay or an undini would use ice. It was a good idea, and Dean made sure to tell Cas as much. If Cas could do it, then he would be able to sign again. They would finally be able to talk. 

Dean did wonder why Cas was suddenly unable to create palm-sized whirlwinds like he had just after they had met, although he quickly cleared that up after discovering a textbook written under what he recognised as Charlie’s pen name. As a natural witch with the Sight, she was able to give details about magic and magical beings that other people were blind to. Apparently, zephyrim were enormous beings, far taller than any tree and even rivalling the size of small Obelisks. For Cas in his true form, 8ft whirlwinds were palm-sized. 

Dean felt a little embarrassed to relate that particular day of research back to Cas and his assumption that Cas’s true form was the same size as a human. He had the distinct feeling that Cas was laughing at him, but Dean didn’t mind. 

Half a year after the battle and Dean was in Cawsand once more, staying in Benny’s spare room. Cas was drifting alongside and around him, hanging in the air as Dean walked down the beach. Occasionally, Cas would draw up the loose sand into swirling patterns before letting it spiral down. 

“I got a call tonight,” Dean said, smiling as he felt Cas’s magic grow sharper, more focused. “Sam and Eileen have finally set a date. Apparently they’ve both been really busy with research, but their current major project is coming to a close, so they can finally relax. Not that a wedding would be particularly restful, but who am I to judge?”

Dean paused, looking around the beach. He recognised this exact spot.

“This is where we first told each other we loved one another, isn’t it?” Dean asked, a rueful twist to his lips. “That was a good memory. I still play it in my head, you know.”

Suddenly there was a shift in the air, and Dean was shaken from his memories. The wind was suddenly strong, whistling past his ears and drawing in as much loose sand as possible, spiralling tighter and tighter. Dean felt his heart jump faster, hope making his breath catch. 

As the wind settled, it revealed a humanoid figure roughly Dean’s size, crafted from tightly whirling sand. 

“Cas?” 

The figure didn’t smile. It didn’t have the right shape for making expressions, though Dean could recognise the shape of Cas’s jawline. Most importantly, each hand had individual moving fingers. 

“Hello, Dean,” the figure signed back. Dean felt his eyes grow damp, and he laughed aloud. 

“Cas, why didn’t you tell me you had made so much progress?” Dean said, his heart fluttering. They could talk. They could finally talk!

“I wasn’t sure I could. I needed something fine like sand to test my control. Do you like it?” 

“Of course I do, you jerk. Cas…” Seeing Cas before him, Dean found suddenly his mind was completely blank. What did you say when you wanted to say everything? “Cas, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh Gods above,  we’re so close to finding a solution, I swear.”

“I know, Dean.”

Dean walked closer, entranced by Cas’s figure, finally visible once more. 

“Dean? I need to tell you I am so sorry about everything that happened,” Cas signed, somewhat hesitant. “It was my fault for trusting him--”

“Hey, hey, I know. Believe me, I know what it’s like to place your trust in the wrong person, but it’s okay. It worked out. You know I don’t blame you, right?”

“Dean, please let me apologise.”

“Cas, I’ve been telling you for weeks and I will tell you every single day in the future if that’s what it takes to make you believe, but I do not blame you. It was not your fault. You have nothing to apologise for.”

Then Dean did something stupid. He tried to reach for Cas.

His hand passed right through the spiralling sand, of course, which gently grated against his skin. Cas, obviously startled, must have lost his concentration on the magic because in that instant the sand all fell to the ground to lie still. 

“Cas?” Dean called, spinning around. “Cas, you’re still here, right? Cas?”

The sand stayed motionless as the air. Dean could barely sense Cas. Had the magic drained him too far? 

“Cas, it’s okay. We can work on this. We can practice together until your sand form is as stable as Hael’s snow. Cas?”

Dean felt Cas shifting through the air, and then with a sudden gust he felt Cas’s presence disappear. 

“Cas?”

There was no answer. No light touch of a breeze, no tickle of Cas’s magic against his own. Dean felt his eyes begin to burn. 

“Cas? Cas, please! Where did you go? Come back!” Dean felt his voice break as he called out through the night.

“Please. Cas, I need you,” he said as tears crept past his eyelashes to leave trails down his cheeks. 

Cas was gone. Dean was alone. 

He wept. 


	10. Drizzle

_ “Once upon a time, there was a zephyr who fell in love with a righteous man. Made foolish by longing, the zephyr asked a powerful mage for help, and traded away their freedom in exchange for a human body. The zephyr and the righteous man became lovers, but the mage was treacherous. He sought power beyond his means, using the zephyr as his servant. Fortunately, the righteous man discovered the mage’s plans and defeated him, but in the process the zephyr lost his body, and was left as nothing more than whispers in the wind.” _

The Zephyr and the Righteous Man

Classic Faery Tales, by Carver Edlund

 

 

Castiel couldn’t stand being in Dean’s presence a moment more. Seeing the faith Dean had placed in him when Cas knew it was undeserved, the way Dean reached for him like he was vital to Dean’s wellbeing. Cas wasn’t worthy of any of it. He’d lied to Dean, watched him for years from afar without Dean’s awareness, and then traded the safety of Dean’s family away just for the chance to fulfil his own selfish desires, and still Dean stared at him with something akin to reverence. 

He needed to confess. He needed to bring everything out in the open, so Dean could see what Cas truly was. So that Dean wouldn’t feel the need to waste time on Cas any longer. The thought of losing Dean’s regard ached, but it was necessary, and this was taking too long. Months invested, and Cas could barely hold a sand form for a single minute of conversation. 

But what else could he do but practice? He knew no magic, and he knew no one well versed enough in air magic besides Dean--

Charlie. Of course there was Charlie. Hadn’t Dean called her the most powerful elemental witch of their time? And Charlie herself was always talking about her complex magic theories, combining elements of Light and Dark and everything else to create a balance more powerful than any individual type of magic. 

Gods, why hadn’t they gone to her for advice sooner? 

It took less than an hour to find his way to her property near the city of Kania. It was exactly as he remembered, and still surrounded by advanced warding. Castiel knocked against it, hoping to gain her attention. It wasn’t like he could yell for attention anymore.

Eventually, he caught sight of her striding moodily through the trees.

“Who’s making that racket? How the hell’s a girl meant to concentrate with all that noise?”

Castiel sighed, but tapped against the wards again.

Charlie glanced in his direction and past him, surveying the land without actually noticing him. Desperate, Cas began to wave for attention. And it worked. Charlie blinked, squinted, and suddenly she was looking right at him. Cas could nearly sing for joy at being seen again.

“Who – wait, are you Cas?”

He nodded, as slowly and clearly as he could manage. Charlie didn’t appear as welcoming as the last time he had visited her alongside Dean.

“Last I heard, you framed Dean for stealing a bunch of stuff, then disappeared just before their house was attacked by a horde of elementals. You pretty much broke his heart.”

Cas attempted to make himself smaller, cringing at her harsh words. She didn’t have all the facts, but there wasn’t a thing there that wasn’t somewhat accurate. It had been his fault. All a result of his selfishness.

Charlie made an odd gesture, tracing glowing lines in the air before her. The lines twisted to form a series of runes, and with a wave of one hand they pulsed and then sunk into her skin.

“That spell should allow me to understand Auran speech for the next two hours. Now, tell me. Why should I even consider helping you with anything?” 

It was truly amazing how casually Charlie performed advanced magic. 

“Please. I just need to be able to speak with Dean. I’ve brought so much danger to him and his family, all for a selfish wish. I need to apologise to him, for everything. I should have never sought Metatron’s help in the first place.”

Charlie raised one eyebrow. “Talk? That’s all you wanna do? Then why would you need my help?”

“I don’t know how to contact him. He can’t see me or hear my voice, and it took months of practice before I could manage to shift sand in any particular pattern, and even then I cannot hold it for long. At this rate it will be years before I will manage to have a full conversation with him. Please, I just need to apologise to him. I need to make this right.”

Charlie pursed her lips, before nodding. “You don’t seem to be lying, so… okay. You can come past the wards.”

Castiel stepped through the moment the wards shifted with her permission, and followed her down the winding path through the woods to her cottage. Once they had arrived, she went inside for a few minutes, returning with a cup of tea. She settled at the garden table.

“Can you fold yourself smaller? Just so I’m not going to strain my neck looking at you.”

Cas did so, making himself only slightly smaller than her cottage.

“I know we’ve only met thrice, but you don’t strike me as the sort to hurt Dean, so talk. What happened? What do you need to apologise for, exactly? Give me details.”

It took a good while before Castiel finished explaining everything. As he spoke, he noticed Charlie grew less hostile and more sympathetic.

“Dude, that’s awful!”

“Will you help me speak to Dean?”

“Of course I will! No, wait – better idea! I’ll make you a body!”

“That is kind of you, Charlie, but I’d rather not be stuck within someone else’s spell.”

“Okay, so how about I show you how to make a body for yourself! Then you could control it at will, step into your human suit whenever you want to hang out with Dean, and shuck it off when you want to go flying,” she said brightly. Castiel swallowed.

“Is that even possible?”

“Of course it is, I wouldn’t offer if I thought I couldn’t deliver. And this is far better than just helping you talk to Dean and then watching you both pine for each other, never able to touch. This isn’t some tragic romance.”

Castiel blinked, but said nothing, still unsure.

“Come on, dude, it’s easier than you think. Especially for a being with your sorts of power. Metatron really conned you to make you think you even needed his help. You just need a bit of guidance.”

Castiel agreed to try.

* * *

 

They spent most of the next day practicing, weaving runes and spell-threads together in complex patterns. Charlie was right. It was challenging, but nothing Castiel couldn’t manage.

By the time the sun set, he’d managed to construct a basic shell of a solid body. It was about the same size and shape as a blanket, but it was solid, and if he slipped into the shell, he’d be able to manipulate the blanket-thing like any other solid limbs.

Castiel continued practicing into the night, long after Charlie went to bed. By morning, Castiel had even managed to craft a shell with limbs, and under Charlie’s guidance, he was quickly able to form them into human proportions and appearance.

During their noon break, Charlie went inside to tap away at the telegram machine she had attached to her house.

As evening of the second day fell, Cas finally got it right. He slid into the skin easily, made as it was of his own magics. Blinking, he stretched, feeling the muscles of the body shift against one another.

“Did it work?” he asked, staring towards Charlie, and they were both started at the sound of his voice. It was a little deep, with a growl to it. Castiel wondered if Dean would find it appealing.

“Fuck yeah, it worked! Bring it in, Cas, we did it!” Charlie cheered, launching herself in Cas’s direction. He caught her, allowing her momentum to spin them around.

Celebrations over, they headed inside for dinner.

It was several hours later, after the dishes had been places aside, and they were all sat by the fire reading. Pamela had a constant smirk on her face, a little twist of smug pleasure that she refused to explain. Charlie had spent nearly all of dinner trying to cajole her into sharing, but she would not be swayed. Castiel assumed she must have had a pleasing vision of the future, something to do with Charlie, but didn’t want to share something so private while he was within hearing distance.

Speaking of which…

“Are you expecting visitors?” Castiel asked as he turned towards the door with a frown, recognising the sound of a paperwing drifting down to land.

“I am,” Pamela said smugly, “But why don’t you get the door for them, Cas?”

Bemused, Castiel stood to do as she asked. He heard the two women standing to follow.

Opening the door, Castiel stepped outside, but didn’t get more than two steps before he froze in surprise.

“Dean?”

Dean and Benny were currently unloading something from the Impala, but he glanced over at the sound of his name. Dean’s jaw dropped open.

“Cas?”

Castiel couldn’t answer, he could only watch as Dean turned to him, and took a step forwards, and suddenly there was far too much space between them and Castiel was running to Dean, who was running towards Cas—

They collided rather solidly, but caught each other enough not to fall from the impact, and wasn’t that amazing! They could actually collide, they could touch! And Dean’s arms were around his shoulders, clawing to drag him closer, and Castiel could feel his eyes beginning to tear up, because Dean was  _ here  _ and he could  _ feel him— _

“Cas, it’s really you, I can’t believe it,” Dean whispered into his ear, and Castiel shivered at the sensation. He sighed, relaxing into Dean’s warmth. “You have a voice now? How is this possible?”

Castiel swallowed. “Charlie was kind enough to assist me. She taught me to create spellskins.”

“So you did this?”

“I did. I don’t owe anyone any favours,” Except Charlie, but all she had requested was that he would try his best to never harm Dean again. Castiel had readily agreed.

“Cas, I love you” Dean breathed, tracing one hand to cup Castiel’s cheek and guide them to kiss. Castiel returned the gesture enthusiastically, pressing as close as he dared.

* * *

 

Dean still couldn’t believe it, and he could feel Castiel within his arms. He could taste him in their kiss -- sweet, familiar Cas. They broke apart, and Cas immediately followed, kissing him again, and Dean surrendered to the sensation.

Fuck, he’d probably been caught in some djinn dream or something, but this was too perfect to give up right now.

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas whispered into the negligible space between them. Dean kissed him again, speaking the words against his lips.

Castiel was filling all of his senses.

“Are you two planning to lock lips for the whole evening, or are you gonna say hello to the rest of us too?”

Dean flinched, startled from his latest kiss. He turned to face Charlie, but didn’t release Cas, who buried his face in Dean’s neck. Dean felt his cheeks flush, but he only stared at her in defiance. He just miraculously got reunited with the one he loved after they thought they’d been permanently separated. He would release Cas when he was good and ready.

“We’ll catch up,” Dean said. Cas kissed his neck.

Charlie rolled her eyes, taking hold of Pamela’s arm to guide her back inside, Benny close behind her.

Dean found Cas’s lips again.

Eventually their kisses slowed as the cold began to soak through, and Dean shivered.

“We should go inside,” Cas murmured.

“Uh huh,” Dean cleverly replied, giving Cas one more lingering kiss, which became one more, then another and another. Cas turned away with a short, bright laugh.

“Come on,” he says, taking Dean’s hand, and Dean follows as he leads inside.

Charlie, Pamela and Benny all turn as they open the door, but none of them say anything. Dean ignores them, settling on the chaise Cas leads him to.

Charlie passes Dean a bowl of food, and he eats, not really paying attention to the conversation. He can’t keep his eyes off Cas for very long, though, and before he knew what was happening, his bowl was empty, and Dean couldn’t really remember what he’d eaten.

“Hey! Earth to Winchester!”

Dean jumps, turning to look at Charlie. She was grinning.

“I’m guessing you two want to spend some time alone together? You’re welcome to the spare room. We don’t mind what you do up there as long as we don’t hear it.”

“And you clean up after,” Pamela added, smirking.

Dean’s cheeks were burning red now, and Benny was no help, he was looking far too innocent not to have been in on this whole plan. But he does want to be with Cas, so he just shrugs and stands, offering one hand to Cas. Cas takes it, of course, and they leave the living room.

After the door is closed, Dean draws Cas in again to another kiss. Cas responds, but when he leans back, there is a sadness in his eyes.

“Dean? I think we need to talk.”

Dean sighs. Cas is right, of course. The last time they were both together like this was the night before Metatron attacked.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Together, they moved to sit on the bed, hands still entwined. Dean smiled, staring at their tangled fingers.

“You’re actually back,” He murmured.

“Yes,” Cas smiled. “Dean, I need to explain everything from before. But I’m not sure where to start.”

Dean swallowed, a flicker of anger overcoming his wonder.

“What about with you stealing all that crap? Trying to frame me?” Dean snapped.

Cas flinched, looking away.

“That wasn’t actually intentional.” He took a deep breath. “Metatron… he is the one who crafted my old spellskin. It had a harsh price – unnamed favours owed. The first few, they weren’t difficult. The items he asked for weren’t particularly dangerous, so I thought it wasn’t too bad. I was able to justify it to myself, even knowing it was wrong. But Metatron gradually asked for more and more.”

“Your disappearances.”

Cas nodded. “He began to ask more frequently. I think he had a spy watching our movements. Every time we visited a large city or any place known for powerful artefacts, I would receive a mission to steal one.”

“Why would you even agree to a price like that, Cas?” Dean asked. “Unnamed favours? That’s shady as fuck.”

“I was desperate,” Cas explained. “Metatron knew it. He knew I would agree to anything for a human body in that moment.”

Dean frowned. From what he knew, Cas had been “cursed” just before he’d met Dean. Just after Dean’s crash…

“Cas? Why were you desperate?”

Cas glanced to him with this helpless little smile, and Dean felt his heart lurch.

“I wanted to help you. When you were stranded,” Cas said, his eyes sad.

“You didn’t even know me then,” Dean spoke slowly, because Cas was already shaking his head, his eyes glistening as he looked away. “Cas? Did you know me?”

Cas withdrew his hand, folding his arm around himself. Dean missed the contact immediately.

“I first saw you long before,” Cas whispered, his voice miserable, as if he was already certain Dean would reject him. “It must have only been a short while after you first crafted Impala, because you hadn’t worked out the controls yet. You flew her through my air space, my territory around the Siroccos, and it caught my attention. I followed you…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “There was something about you that piqued my interest. I – I liked to watch you as you flew, and watch how you interacted with others. You’re fascinating to me, and I grew to admire you very much…”

Dean was frozen.  Just after Impala was built?

“That was more than ten years ago, Cas,” Dean said. Cas nodded, but didn’t look at him. “You… you were watching me for ten years?”

Cas nodded, curling in on himself. Dean swallowed, moving to stand.

“You followed me around the country, watching me? You were spying on my life? You were stalking me?”

“I… yes. Technically. I made excuses in my mind, but I knew it was an invasion of privacy.”

“Gods, Cas,” Dean groaned, stepping away from the bed. “Why? Ten fucking years, Cas! If you knew it was wrong, why did you keep doing it?”

“I never thought you would ever see me.”

“And that makes it alright?!” Dean barked incredulously.

“No, of course it doesn’t,” Cas replied. “But it is still true. I never thought we would meet, so you would live happily ignorant of my admiration—“

“Obsession,” Dean interjected.

“…my obsession with you,” Castiel conceded.

“So when you say you love me—“

“No, that came after. I swear it. I might have had a crush on you before, but it pales before my feelings for you now. I fell in love with you while we were rebuilding Impala together.”

Dean’s head was spinning.

“Cas, what am I meant to do, knowing all this? You, this is worse than when I thought you were trying to frame me for theft.”

Cas flinched again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dean. I can leave—“

“No!” Dean cried out, grabbing Cas’s wrist. The zephyr glanced up to him, startled by his sudden movement. Dean’s heart wrenched seeing the tear tracks down Cas’s face, but he was still feeling queasy at the idea of Cas spying on him, and what was he meant to do? He only just got Cas back, and by the Gods, he still loved Cas so much, but this was a lot to take in, and Cas couldn’t just run away from this.

“Okay. Okay, so let’s see if I have this straight. You were watching me for years, and saw my paperwing go down, so you went to Metatron for a body to, I don’t know, help me? And you stayed with me,  _ without telling me about the stalking _ , and stole stuff in your free time to repay your debt. Until he asked for a favour that was too big, and you went back on your deal.”

Cas nodded.

“What did he ask for?”

“Metatron wanted me to kill Sam. I refused, of course. He told me it was part of a larger spell he was weaving to place himself as the new God of Light.”

“Gods,” Dean murmured. “And that was when Benny found you.”

“Metatron decided to undo the spell crafting my body, to prevent me from warning you. After it was all over, I knew I had to apologise. I have brought so much danger to your family as a result of my selfishness. I knew that stealing was wrong, just as watching you was wrong, but without a body anymore… Dean, I cannot express fully how sorry I am that I’ve brought this upon you and your family. Words aren’t enough, but they are all I can offer you.”

Fuck. Earlier this evening Dean had been wonderstruck at simply seeing Cas again – at hearing him for the first time! – but this was all getting too much for now.

“I’m not going to think about this right now,” Dean said. Cas stared at him with a question in his eyes, obviously expecting to be sent from his side.

Dean stepped forwards, drawing Cas into a hug. Cas froze, but a moment later, his arms came up to surround Dean’s waist.

“Dean?”

“I haven’t forgiven you. I don’t think I could right now anyway. But tonight I was reunited with the man I love after months of longing for him from a distance, and I am not going to let your creepy, weird past get in the way of that. We’ll talk about all that crap tomorrow.”

Weirdly, there was a part of Dean that wasn’t creeped out by this all. He didn’t think it was romantic or anything, but Dean remembered Rhonda Hurley, from back when he was still in high school. He remembered adoring her, timing his breaks so that he could catch glimpses of her in the corridor. He remembered how she would look right through him when they stood near each other, and the politely confused surprise when he asked her on a date. She hadn’t even known they were in the same class. Yes, he knew the feeling of having a crush on someone who didn’t see you.

Cas was amazing. And Dean was not gonna let him out of his sight, now that he had him back.


	11. Sunshower

_ “To conclude, Light and Dark magic appear to be complete reflections of each other, but they are substantially the same. Both types of magic can be used to produce identical effects, and even the methods by which the magic comes in to effect appear similar. I believe that, were we to apply scientific method to the study of Light magic as we have with Dark, we would discover that Light magic also operates according to quantum mechanics, changing the nature of matter itself. The difference between the two is simply the amount of control the wielder has over the process; whether they want the magic to follow several pre-ordained steps or care only about the result.” _

The False Dichotemy Between Light and Dark

The Journal of Grey Magic, Article by Dr Eileen Leahy

 

 

Dean woke early.

Cas was sprawled within Dean’s arms, still asleep. His features were softer in the early morning light, Peaceful. Dean just wanted to stay like this, without all that complicated crap. Just them, together, and he didn’t have to think about how creepy it was that Cas had been watching him for years.

The thing was, the more Dean thought about it, the more Dean suspected he’d been aware of Cas’s presence on some level. Dean had always felt that familiar magic in the air, whenever he was flying. The way he could nearly hear his own name on the wind sometimes, or the way hostile air spirits would just back away as he flew past. The way he’d never really felt lonely, even when he was camping in the middle of nowhere.

Had that been Cas all along? Cas, blessing the winds lifting Impala up and dancing through the sky with him.

Dean had definitely recognised Castiel’s presence after the whole Metatron thing. It had made the separation easier knowing Castiel was with him. And at the same time, it had made things a thousand times worse, because Castiel was just there, and they couldn’t even speak to one another, let alone touch.

Dean’s arms tightened around Cas’s sleeping form, drawing him closer. Cas sighed in his sleep, his head turning to face Dean.

Dean guessed he could see where Cas was coming from, with the watching. How much worse had it been for Castiel before, when Dean didn’t even know he existed? But that still didn’t make the watching feel any more comfortable…

Dean didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t going to give Cas up again. The very idea made him feel ill. He wanted Cas, despite it all.

He wanted Cas.

Dean shifted upright, careful not to jostle his lover. Leaving the room, he wandered downstairs, unsurprised to find Charlie there eating breakfast. She was always the early sort. Dean made himself a coffee and joined her. 

“You’re up early” she said with a smirk. “I wasn’t expecting either of you to be down for hours.” 

Dean gave a wan smile and a shrug. Charlie’s expression fell as she took a closer look at him.

“Actually, you don’t look like you just had a passionate reconnection with your dreamy lover. What gives? Spill.”

Despite the fact that he had approached her solely for the purpose of gaining her opinion, it was hard to open up to Charlie. Dean wasn’t quite sure how to adequately explain it. He was delighted to have Cas back, of course, and thankful for everything Charlie had done to help, but none of that really helped with the feelings of unease he had at the idea of Cas stalking him.

Maybe being blunt was best.

“Cas has been stalking me for years.”

It was rare that Dean got to see Charlie really shocked about anything. She looked a little ridiculous with her mouth hanging open and both eyes wide. 

It didn’t take long to explain. Truly, Dean didn’t know many of the details yet, just the broad strokes. Cas first seeing him as he learned to fly Impala. Cas growing obsessed and following him, protecting him from hostile air spirits. Cas gambling away his own freedom to help save Dean after his crash. By the end of it, Charlie was about as serious as he had ever seen her, and there was something flinty in her eyes.

“That grade A jerk! I can’t believe I actually helped him!” she said, glaring down at the table. Dean was quick to intercede.

“It isn’t like that, Charlie, I love him. Really, I do, and I’ve been missing him for months. You did good. I just - I just don’t feel quite right about all of this.”

“You damn well shouldn’t! Dean, you realise the only difference between Cas and Azazel is that, unlike Sam, you actually like Cas back?”

“Of course i realise the difference. For one thing, Cas isn’t planning on sacrificing me to complete a ritual summoning.”

“And how can you be certain of that?”

“I know Cas.”

“Well, obviously not well enough if he’s been hiding this for the months you’ve been together.”

“He’s a good person.”

Charlie pursed her lips, and looked away. Dean sighed. 

“He… he told me that even back then, he was trying to find some way to talk to me, but there wasn’t any way he could communicate that I would even be able to understand. You know I don’t have the Sight, and I’ve never been able to decipher Auran. Like, his true form is just regular air. I could only tell he was there at all because I could recognise his magic, and even then I had to strain to pick it up.”

Charlie remained silent, so Dean continued. “He said he would have approached me immediately, if he’d known some way to talk to me. That was why he was trying to find some magic that would give him a physical form. But he couldn’t work it out on his own.”

“...that’s a good point, as much as I hate to admit it. There are nearly no spells at all that would allow a non-corporeal creature to control a physical form, and most of the ones that exist are all forms of possession. And without a corporeal body, he’d be unable to speak any language but Auran. Trying to touch would be useless too,” Charlie continued.

Dean bit his lip, turning away. No touch. No sound. No Sight. Cas really  _ had _ been unable to contact him. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. Part of Dean wanted to forgive Cas, say it was all in the past, and allow them to move on with their lives. Another part, a much louder one, insisted that Cas was dangerous. Dean had seen first-hand the kind of damage Cas could cause, and he had practically admitted to being obsessed with Dean. 

Charlie sighed heavily.

“Look, Dean, you want my honest opinion?”

Dean bit his lips in nervousness, and nodded.

“It’s obvious you want to forgive him,” Charlie began. “You’re searching for a reason to justify Cas’s actions to yourself, so that things can go back to being easy, but you’re also worried that if you do forgive him for something this bad, he might take it to mean that he can behave however he likes in the future.”

“Something like that,” Dean admitted, feeling his cheeks grow pink. It was a little embarrassing to hear it all put out like that. He couldn’t dispute a single thing she said. “So what do I do, then?”

Charlie took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“You told me you think Cas is a good person. You need to ask yourself whether you can trust him to never do something like this again. If you can, then maybe you can make something good with him. If not…” Charlie sighed, her eyes going soft with pity. “If not, then it may be best to end things here.”

Dean grimaced, trying to hide how much the idea of ending things with Cas made him feel sick. Gods, he only just got him back. But Charlie did have a point. It would save a lot of heartache to cut things off now before they got much deeper, rather than try and try and make themselves miserable. 

Just at that moment, Cas walked into the room, his eyes half closed and movements sluggish. He shuffled over to the kitchen and went to pour himself a coffee, only to glower at the carafe as he discovered it was empty.

Charlie kicked Dean in the shin. He winced, turning to her in confusion, and only then realised he had been staring at Cas with a silly grin on his face. Charlie shook her head with a mildly amused expression, mouthing “You’re hopeless,” at Dean. 

He really was, wasn’t he?

Dean had made his decision. Standing up, he walked to Cas’s side, who was still glaring at the carafe like it had personally offended him. 

“Hey,” Dean said, reaching to take it from Cas’s hand. With a whispered charm, Dean filled it with water again, and set it to boil on the stove. Cas gave him a grateful smile, still bleary with sleep. 

Dean saw the exact moment Cas remembered that they were still in an argument. Cas’s smile fell, his eyes suddenly far too alert, and the blood drained from his face. He looked worried. Dean hated that he’d placed that look on Cas.

He cleared his throat.

“So, uh, about yesterday?” Dean began. Cas looked even more nervous. “I’m not angry - well, no, I am still a bit angry, I hate the idea that you were watching me for so long while i had no idea, but I think I get it. I think I understand.”

Cas only looked more confused, and no less nervous. Dean huffed in frustration. Glancing to the table, he noticed Charlie had snuck out while he was distracted. 

Turning back, Dean took a step forwards, entering Cas’s space, and taking his hand. Cas glanced down at their joined palms with disbelief, and perhaps a little hope.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think that whole thing was creepy, and I don’t like that it happened, but it’s not like you had many options as far as communicating with me, right? And I don’t think it’s something you’d ever do again.”

At this, Cas shook his head fiercely. “All I ever wanted was to speak with you, from the first moment you flew through my airspace. I never intended for things to go on so long, or to invade your sense of privacy.”

Dean gave a tight smile, bringing Cas’s knuckles to his lips. Cas watched with his eyes wide in disbelieving fascination. 

“I love you,” Dean said. “And I want to try again.”

“Dean, I love you too…” Cas whispered. 

“I think I might be able to forgive you, someday,” Dean added.  “For now, I’d like to kiss you, if you’d be alright with that.”

“Always,” Cas breathed, leaning forwards to meet Dean’s lips. 

One kiss became two, which became more. Dean let himself float at the soft contact, shivering as they entwined. By the time they parted, his head was heavy and his knees were weak. dean leaned his forehead against Cas’s, and for a few minutes, they simply stood there, breathing the same air. 

Dean felt peaceful. Cas was back, and Dean loved him and was loved in return. None of his family was in danger, and Cas was no longer indebted to a malicious elemental spirit. Things were good, and Dean felt confident that Cas would never give him a reason to doubt again.

Eventually, Cas frowned, turning slightly to stare over Dean’s shoulder. 

“The water’s boiling over,” he said, all matter of fact. 

Dean swore, turning to remove the carafe from the stove.

* * *

 

Of all the ways his dalliance with Metatron could have ended, Cas had hardly dared it would work out, but here he was, alive and free and dressed in a human body, with the love of his life besides him. 

Somehow, Dean had seen fit to give him another chance. Cas was loathe to waste it.


End file.
